The Rising Sun
Traveling at the speed of | what grows along a leaky pipe | hovering midair
The rideshare driver was agitated. He apologized and muttered under his breath about finding a way around the closed highway. Apparently the stretch that runs through the wind farm is often closed due to… high winds. They blow the SUVs and trucks off the road, he said. As a result we took a longer route that hugged the mountain, before eventually winding through a narrow pass. Up, and up, until we were in the high desert.
Upon arriving at the ashram the gate was closed but unlocked, but the driver said he didn’t think he should pull in. So I crossed the two lane local route with my suitcase and proceeded to the cottage. The sound of a harmonium gently reverberated through the metal door, and I waited a while before knocking.
My body has begun to accept waking before sunrise. I suppose that I have been awake for many sunrises in my life, but I hadn’t really watched them before.
They’re not a simple inverse of sunset— the color of the sky, and the first light traveling across the landscape, is totally different. It only lasts a minute, like a fuse igniting in slow motion. And when I rise to standing, and chant just as the sun peaks over the horizon, it is better than magic. You know exactly who you are.
The transition back from the high desert wasn’t a gentle one. There were a series of supreme annoyances, some of which objectively required attention. And I might’ve given them a bit more thought than absolutely necessary. But I also remained at a distance as I watched the emotions roiling, occasionally knocking me off balance, while feeling the presence of those peaceful days.
All the rhythms of my body were in a state of reorganized chaos; each system in a state of unburdening with dramatic flare— fired up and dried out.
I remembered how she showed me the pile of three snake sheds behind a bush next to the shower, her electric grin as she silently gestured with her finger towards the papery skin in the shape of a mouth agape, draped over the fine gravel of desert earth. It made me laugh me to think of snakes having set routines, a particular spot where they like to shed. One was fresh from last night, nestled underneath an older skin, desiccated from the harsh sun. It was a bit hidden but really it was just a couple feet from the path. In my memory I said this out loud, but of course no one spoke. The entire conversation unfolded within the confines of an exchanged glance.
I started to settle. Toughened up under the blinding brightness, new shoots bent perilously close to the ground by the gusting wind, before springing upright moments later. Shades of yellow, orange, and red appeared and disappeared. A cacophony of birds calling the sun upward from beyond an endless sky. And a tiny point of light pendulating between the past and future.
What do you call it when you realize that what you desire is already there?
Ripe waiting deep within the cradle of the body For your eyes to adjust.
Is it a memory, or a dream and was it revealed, or found Does it dance or travel along a thread as fine as a spider's web is it an echo does it cast a shadow who see's it when it does?
Tapping a well requires finding a source first digging deep enough and establishing a path for it to flow upwards.
A pipe with detritus collected at the seams still works But the flow is stronger when it is clear.
Rising and descending simultaneously Undulating and piercing through with tremendous force before spraying out over a cluster of tiny roots.
A few days a month you can see the rising sun on one side of the horizon, and the setting moon on the other. the origin and the reflection and maybe, every single cell turns to greet them.
For the second time in a week I stood face to face with a bumble bee, hovering at eye level. Its wings a blur, with a shiny bum and long legs dangling down.
And I think she was looking at me? I know she was.She sensed the presence of a flower I had set out on the roof only a minute before. I can feel it too, the nectar that awaits when persistence meets grace.
If you missed the sign up for the May cycle of Shakti Rising focusing on mudras, you can register for the class in progress here.
Coming up:
Community Yoga Nidra on 5/14 and 5/31 (Nurturing the Spark of Creativity)
If you’re a paid subscriber of this Substack, you can access your code to register for no additional cost here.