I am slowing my mind down. Sipping coffee and letting fall do its thing. You know, there is an inner fall as well as an outer one. What we do naturally in fall is to hunker down and conserve our resources.
This morning after watering the flowers I spent some time looking around at my house, letting it sink into my soft gaze. Celebration puts us on red alert for some reason. We get jazzed up and then have to let the scales return to balance.
A sip of coffee contains the whole cup. A wee bit of spirit gratefully inhaled reaches the entire body. My years softly fall off the tree of life. Last year dangling like a red maple leaf about to fall into the ground to become humus. Not hummus, you wingding….
I was born for the inner life. Marked out and called to go ever deeper into the psyche of wholeness. To integrate male and female. To explore the musty dampness of the forest floor. Today’s neoadvaita is empty of the feminine receptive quality. It shines a glaring light from the masculine sun without the grace of the feminine. I have left that path; not that I ever belonged to it in the first place.
My work as a writer is quiet and sure. I am undaunted by responses, having also left open forums where endless debates go on. This is my version of hell. I much prefer to live as my friend Peter did, free of doctrine and teachers.
Leonard Cohen is the light for many of us. His words and music all point to the hallelujah that Peter had found as well. It is, of course, the broken hallelujah that Peter knew and that I was living as I wrote him.
Fall is a time to fall back into the earth, to receive the fruits of the harvest and to gather strength for the coming winter. My coffee is unfinished. I have all day to savor each sip.