When was the first time:
you fell in love with a dandelion?
you felt a pig’s whisker tickle your fancy?
a crack in the sidewalk became your entrance into the spirit world, as your shadow disappeared through the crack and into the earth?
someone poured a bucket of icy stream water on your nakedness, and you howled with new birth?
you ran out into a storm, laid under the lightning, played your drum and sang?
you let the autumn wind sculpt your body?
you stood at dusk and sang in the approaching dark, and embraced the night with nakedness and offerings?
you savored a voluptuous word, delicious to speak on your lips, and consciously allowed the word to shape your body and feelings, and felt the history of that word reach in from generations and out your own mouth?
you hunkered down to the roots of your soul and waited, surviving both the cackling winter and the billowing craziness of spring?
you knew that eating apricots and having sex were both forms of making love?
you realized that changing, then changing again, then again, and yet again, was living within one of the deepest songs of creation?….that change is the humming of nature?
you believed that one name is not enough for you, because you need a new one at every stage of your development as a way to acknowledge your deepening relationship with what is flowing?
you said “Thank you,” and knew it was not a brush off, but was, in fact, the truth?
you realized that there is no such thing as good and evil, but only that everything is relationship, and that you can consciously craft relationship without shoving some things outside your consideration?
you understood that there is no separate “you,” but that there is only everything all at once? And it just is. And the “you,” in the phrase “you are,” is everything that has ever touched you, embraced you, scolded you, influenced you, heated you, chilled you, soured you, fed you, left you, welcomed you, intrigued you, turned you off, feared you, tempted you, sustained you, supported you, or has called attention to the whole thing all at once? That memory is sacred? That the next moment is still free of the past? That you can still choose, as part of the whole deal, and nothing will be lost? Not “you,” but the whole survives, and you understand in all humility? That “you” have lost nothing by choosing differently from the moment before? The earth is not embarrassed by your free choice. Did you know that? Ever? Wake up and sing. The next note has yet to be sung. And only you can sing the song you came here to sing.