deep thoughts by melanie tormos

all life has meaning.

life IS meaning.

all life is sacred, beautiful, important.

no one has the authority to judge whether or not another life is more or less sacred, beautiful or important.

my life is sacred, beautiful, important.

your life is sacred, beautiful, important.

love and death/rebirth intersect at the crux of all time/space.

"who's gonna watch you when you die?"

what is more important at the end of life:
what you have or who you love?

we all feel so alone most of the time: suffering, trying to survive, longing for love acceptance and validation.  all the love the world needs can be generated within each and every one of us.

forgiveness is freedom.

we are all called in this life to do something.

it doesn't have to be complicated.

feeding one who is hungry
comforting one who is sick
teaching
protecting
inventing
creating
building

if we can do this thing we are called to do
in/with/for
love
then our own hunger will be fulfilled.

and everyone wins.

river, sea, trees

we descend on fresh feet, skin hot under the sun and wind cooling the sides of our faces.
i am playful because i know how it will be at the bottom; i have been on this path before.  he is silent with effort and picks his way with heavy feet among the stones and wet leaves.  i lead, he follows, and i know he is asking questions.
bright light is filtered by thickening trees and the breath of leaves is all around.  the trail steepens, the smell of wet earth deepens into dark notes.  our heightened animal senses pick up twigs crackling and the cry of a hawk above the canyon.  my breath, despite the miles walked, slows.  my heart opens here, knowing it is safe. my body's edges soften.

there are no edges.
the light takes all forms, all shapes, all colors.  i taste it, hear it.  i lick my lips to get at the salt, to remember that the earth's body and my body are both mostly water, flooding again and again with tides teeming with life. 
that which moves out, moves in.
the sea builds into a shimmering ziggurat of pale cloud, growing thicker and heavier until it falls, drop by drop, back to the land, to quench the thirst of questions, the dry consequence of rage and loneliness and wondering.

they speak to me and i do my best to listen.
they are mostly quiet, preferring that i deepen into their vibration rather then meeting me at mine.  that is why it takes time, steps, breath.  some messages enter as waves of sensation i perceive at the center of my chest, others as thoughts in my own language.  i am always amazed at their kindness, tenderness and affection.  they love humankind, bearing witness to migration, creation and destruction alike.  they are of the earth and of the air, and so bridge two worlds.  as above, so below.
they begin to lean as they grow old, knowing one day they will move from their skyward caresses down into the dark earth, devoured by scavengers and by time, to nourish those who have yet to begin the ascent.