I Was Burned by a Star

I went to meditate on a perfect morning on a perfect island when birds were singing and the air was cool. I sat on the edge feeling brave, feeling sure that this was a place for meeting the 'everythingness' for knowing myself for receiving answers

I went to meditate
on a perfect morning
on a perfect island
when birds were singing and the air was cool.
I sat on the edge
feeling brave, feeling sure
that this was a place for meeting the ‘everythingness’
for knowing myself
for receiving answers
to unarticulated questions.
I drew in a breath of sharp pine and musky salt water
I thought of the microscopic pieces of the ocean
that had just entered my body.

Om…om…one with all.

I keep my eyes open.
The seascape stretching out before me
a physical representation of my thoughtscape
the unseen world of being
a deep mysterious ocean, teeming with life
with possibility
suffering from the insidious effects of pollution.
Sea sick. Mind sick.
Islands of thought emerge from the depths
some larger and more prominent than others.
They narrow my focus when I am lost in the vastness,
the diaspora
of my innermost self.

Om…om…one with all.

A hummingbird levitates just a few feet away from me.
It appears to have no wings at all.
They move faster than my limited eyes,
my limited mind, can comprehend.
But I know they move, I hear their hum.
I am reminded of my human limitations,
of the otherness of this creature
that is occupying the same space as me.
Grateful for the tenderness and fortune
of her short visit.

Om…om…one with all.

My coffee cup is reflected in the varnish
of a handcrafted picnic table.
A man made this.
It sits beside a half finished white crocheted scarf.
A woman made this.
A bottle of sunscreen reminds me to protect myself.
An adaptation.
A pile of books, forgotten overnight,
are warped into undulating paper waves by this morning’s dew.
An oversight.
A mosquito sings into my right ear.
My body jerks, hand swats.
A prereflective action.
And then grace settles me.
It is here and I am here,
meaningfully.

Om…om…one with all.

In this moment
I recognize that everything is affected by everything else,
and there is no escape from this.
Nothing exists on its own.
Nothing is truly separated.
And there is comfort in this truth
made even more real to me
as I wince from the pain of a deep sunburn on my back.
A sun burn – what a curiosity.
I was burned by a star a hundred million miles away.

Om…om…one with all.

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