I have failed utterly in my attempt to shape some cohesive, meaningful narrative out of the alchemical heat of 2018. A wild mix of chaos, deaths small and large; courageous and inspiring traveling companions; insights, fulfillments, shatterings into greater wholeness, lingering terrors, and refurbishing of the heart.
So all I can do, as the year 2019 is birthed, is to share with you words I need both to voice and to hear, the contract I am ready to make with Reality, not hide-bound but heart-bound, not only in weeping but also in joy.
May we ask and live into good questions, cheer one another on, and help one another materially as we can in 2019 and beyond.
A covenant of birth
by Sara Eisenberg
taproots deep into
nutrients to me,
an arid moonscape
whose eloquent fragrance
soil, mind, heart,
No choice but to know, intimately,
my yearnings, aversions, despairs:
instructive, dignifying, and precious,
a true north stretched out over empty space,
an earth suspended over Nothing,
the very features of
and my way home.