A slight chill this morning – morning glories blossomed on the railing – the palest blue. They stand erect and still as if they are looking for something – a lost lover. Or like they heard something faintly in the distance and are great ears listening with breath held to hear some new urgency. Or as if the love held captive in the seed and the vines and the leaves could contain itself no longer and has been shot forth. Delicate membrane unfurled. Silky as the finest Parisian blouse – a raiment softer than the fairest skin.
Only for a few moments, my whole lifetime is lived. Too fragile to last – this membrane of love – made only for giving and receiving.
Now the blossoms quiver in the imperceptible breeze. Too fragile to last – like a human being – defenseless walking upright with this delicate skin membrane holding it all together – not at all sturdy - like a rock or a piece of dirt.
But I am sure they are listening – tuning into the deep hum of the universe. Their only job is to listen – to receive – which they do perfectly. The ear-like sails – radio wave collectors – more powerful than the sonic telescopes lined up in the desert waiting to hear news of other life in far away places – to listen to ‘see’ what is beyond what we know. This place where listening and seeing are not separate.
And what IT is is not determined by what it is, but by that which receives. The softest blue is just a dance happening between the shaking fragility of these blossoms and the intricacy of the electro-magnetic impulses I call myself.
Our astonishing dance of intimacy this morning.