I do not own my breath

To hear the coyotes – to feel them in that primitive part of yourself that remembers its connection to the ancients. Being out here in the desert, one is able to block out the disharmony of modern life and reconnect with the flow. The wind, which blows through you, reminds you of your hollow places. The places inside yourself where empty space exists. This space is the space of possibility. Of dreams. Of things that can be and that defy the overculture. 

To be reminded of hollow places – what a gift. To feel the movement of non-linear time move through you. 

When I am quiet and focused on just the right things – not the things the human world tells me are important to focus on – buying things; looking someway; being a certain way – the joy of existence is available to me. Like a spring. A font in the wilderness where the pure water essence of creation flows up from the deep. 

I am fascinated by all things deep and dark. Fertility has its birthplace in the underground. The womb. Messy. Bloody. Ripped from the comfort of a nurturing outer body – not our own, but still a part of us – into this life of light and logic and expectations. 

My breath is like the desert wind. It comes from a place I do not know and leaves again for yet another unknowable place. It surges and recedes. Like experience. I cannot hold the wind – just as I cannot hold my breath. Oh sure, I can suspend a breath for a moment only. But, if I hold my breath too long I will die. 

Breath and change and the wind. When I allow these things to flow through me – life as breath – wind as the earth’s breath. 

I do not own the air in my lungs. 

I do not own the land under my feet.

I do not own the cells of my body.

I do not own the thoughts in my mind. 

I do not own this moment, 

Or the next. Or the one before.

I do not control the seasons.

I cannot control the stories in my body. 

The tales of before – and now – and afterwards.

What happens, then, if I just stop dancing?

What happens if I just stop breathing?

What happens if I just stop thinking?

Where is the gap?

God lives there, in the gap

Small gaps in thinking 

Even as I write this

There are spaces between the words

Can I will myself to go into the space?

Perhaps this is the only true value of free will – to set to the intention to go on a quest for God.

In this day, I wish to take just one step closer to God.

And I do not even need to take the step, I just need to lift my foot as if I was going to take the step.

And I do not even need to lift my foot, just think about lifting my foot.

And I do not even need to think about lifting my foot, just wonder what it would be like to lift my foot.

And it is this wonder that catches God’s attention.

The wonder that catches God’s attention