Turning Towards

In the stillness of dawn, I turn towards the wound. I observe its ragged edges, marvel at its breadth and depth. I tend to it with the cooling cloth of meditation. I sit with it and listen for signs of life, for inklings of breath. I've found that if I'm patient and quiet and willing, eventually the wound will begin to speak. Sometimes it takes a few minutes before my ear tunes to the language that bubbles up and I have to remind myself to listen with the softness of my body not the convoluted pathways of my brain. She is shy and has been so misunderstood, that I must take things very, very slowly. I begin to speak to this part of myself:

"I want to be here with you. I see you are uncertain. Can you tell me what you need to feel safer?"

"Do you feel that memory climbing up your belly and landing in your chest? Allow it to feed you as it feeds me. Be with me and resist your desire to heal me."

"Ummm...you look so uncomfortable, how can I sit here and do nothing when raw ache is everywhere?"

"It aches more when you look away."

"I know that is true... you've shown me that. What should I do with my discomfort?"

"Your discomfort comes from not being present, from tossing a timeline into the future. It also comes from trying to fit yourself into a box of how this should look or feel or how long it will take. Did you ever stop to consider that I am beautiful?"

I look into the swollen red wound, the crater left when Hunter died, and am immediately reminded of looking into the active crater of Mt. Bromo in Java-- The deep rumbling lava that could easily have swallowed up any of the tourists walking the rim above. Beauty has many definitions and it seems to me that the slower I travel through life the more I appreciate the mystery of things which in turn tunes my eye to beauty. Pensively I say,

"When I look at you fully and study your edges and auras, I do begin to see beauty in the torn flesh, though I'll be honest--- it's hard to not want to paint you with salve and cover you with clean white gauze."

"Thank you for understanding that that is not what I need. I prefer to be seen, to feel air and sunlight on my contours."

"Yes, I get that. May I curl up here and nap beside you? Perhaps we can dream, together."

"Ah, what an idea. I would enjoy your company. Yes please let us rest, together."