From the wilderness of childhood, my parents made it clear,
wordlessly, that through them there was someone,
nameless at first,
concerning Himself with me. Or Herself.
Later, this was called G-d, but at first, it was just
a look in their eyes, a certain comport, gestures – and i felt it,
Which later became, in me, a sensation of wonder, of reverence,
it was Light, it was Greater, but it was Me, it was All of Us.
It was Them. It was Home.
It was a spell cast, it was water flowing, it was radiance, amplified,
a steady glow of knowing.
Prayers came then, so did “personality,” the deepest, merest innocence,
was there such a thing as destiny I’ll never know, but I had a feeling.
In these days each year when I review all the reeling, scrubbing, pushing,
thrusting of language both in my mind and my environment,
it’s useful to recall the precious times I stayed quiet inside
and let that presence of G-d lead me through all the sacred signs.
Especially this past wild, snowy January Saturday when G-d called
so loudly that my own Mama got carried away so peacefully, with
my head on her belly and my heart full of sweetness. Even though
I forgot to ask a few things. I’m knowing she was at her most easeful
in that holy transition – today I thank all of the ancestors for
applauding her courage and welcoming her finest, last, first transmission.
In that unknown, her letting go of this world confirmed what I’d felt as
that willing little girl; that when I hurt myself or others I’ve just
forgotten my sanctified circumstances – it’s time to bow my head to
my extravagant blindness, lay my sword down, no more fighting.
G-d is my confidence. My gratitude. My enchantment. My plenitude.
I choose to rejoice in this new, full wilderness and develop a
continuously broadening attitude of listening. No resisting.