Of all music, it is Irish melody that opens up my chest, not only with simple joy, but simple sadness. When I hear Irish music, I abandon the preference for light over darkness. My heart knows both Winter and Spring. Always, there are two seasons at the core of my healing.
Irish music tells me my tears are the dew that
moistens the soil. Irish music tells me that each raindrop kissing the earth is a shattered
globe, holding a mote of heartache. What use is a star that does not fall into a seed?
Every blossom is a bleeding wound.
Enlightenment is not the end of grieving, but the stillness that contains it, allowing pain to be without edges. I am the sound of the ocean in a shell, rounding my luminous pearl from a grain of stone.