We're both still here. Different now, since mahasamadhi.
Beloved Amy 8/30/74 - 1/26/15
Still recalling that first moment:
Oh...There you are!...You're right here on Earth, and right now!
You came...You heard the prayers...You noted the surrendering!
Spontaneously, each put their hands together in
two-hand blessing, but there is no word "Nam..."
There can be no word or words. Only perfection and awe.
"I see you" passes from one to the other, and again.
They have no clue of what should follow.
How many lifetimes?....and now arriving at uncharted territory.
We heard tell of this, in ancient legends.
Oh yes, the love itself makes its own way, with no mind.
Later she writes "who is this I and you....when love is speaking it is love speaking of itself to itself". And "how we witness unimaginable magic disguised as ordinary".
The always-wordless two-hand blessing gesture forever became one of vastly greater meaning (infinitely beyond "I salute..."):
In this stunned silence, heads bowed but eyes locked, we together hold this timelessness out of time, and remember all that is and ever will be, in this moment of eternal recognition of inseparability and infinite momentous grace of awaited shared presence, and our hearts expand in excruciating joy to encompass all the universes. This simple hand mudra initiated first waking moments of every day thereafter, followed by hands touching feet, tears falling.
Dearly Beloved Holy Angel, Eternal Soul Mate, brightening all time and space - know all who love you have come together in your honor and affirm their love on this holy day, and blessedly continue to support me through these difficult hours and 730 days. We gather in spirit and celebrate the many wondrous love-teachings you brought to we relatives in this plane of our/your Mother Earth.
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And, Her blessing me with the gift of being seen, shortly after meeting -
"owl man snake handler
‘oh,shit!’ and goddammit!
hopi shifting into old chinese
he is walking
an astrologer an animal talker
a graceful stone vast
thin dry bones he is solid tender
his every-colored eyes flash deep
he is true from where we are from
at home everywhere and nowhere
holding me in steady presence
every breath aware and honoring
watching, adoring, accepting
invisibly when he shows up the room
elevates, why does who not see? he is
asking tracking conspiracies and flaws
animal gatherings preserving what is
love-space he is a love-space being
he makes pancakes for us and feeds
birds always himself a man-woman
child-star he’s the deep red jewel burned
repeatedly each time coming through shinier
he’s weary ever-hopeful he’s the space
the boat cradles tossed by waves ever-held
by the dark arms of the universe he’s the tapping
drumming rhythm pulsing under through
the pulse of contact raindrops dancing
he is pure appreciation for what is true
he rants anger erupts mountains of love
ever-hoping, he is the metals the density
the interest in what is alive he is stunned by what
is not
he is the dense dark silence of circling
relating the spinning rhythm of orbit"
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Offering this gift of music, recently performed at the premier institution for
North Indian Classical Music:
