Jolt

 

Jolt of falling back into my body, awakening, unknowing every dream but this: that my flesh is the ground of the sacred, more holy than any place my soul has ever fled. Plummeting into luminous eiderdown emptiness, the cloud-soft jolt that shatters my atoms into crystal shards of song. This is the lightning upon the sea, where "I" dissolve in the ocean of Am. This is the drowning that unbreathes me.

Ever returning to the trackless wild, dark energy between inhale-exhale, unfathomable void of divine possibility, the waters of silence that were here before Hu said, “Let there be light”: this is the drowning that unbreathes me.

Freed from both subject and object, the Witness attains absolute clarity without a do-er, seeing through the amethyst bindhu in the pineal gland a waltz of anti-quarks and stars, resolving the boundless and the infinitesimal as one in-spiraling kaleidoscope of the Self-Beheld.

Gaze, grok, marvel, unknow the science of the microbiome, neurophysics of crystal goo in the ambiguous cocoon, imbibing all the potent foamy amniotic mead of Venus Gaia. But this is not enough to quench our human thirst. For we are more than earth. Not other, but more...

These silken nerves ignite, raveled in a garment of sunbeams. The trembling in a leaf, the glistening in a chloroplast, vibrations of our own astonishment. Wings of cherubim in caterpillar mitochondria. The hypothalamus pulsates with the biorhythm of quasars. Neutrinos from the Butterfly Nebula, NGC 2346, descend and ascend on the ladder of each chromosome, through every leukocyte of human blood. This effervescent hologram of physiology incarnates constellation MoM-z14, the most distant object in creation, through my fingertip. I do not disappear but Am, transfiguring the chaos of time into the order of eternity.

Then who finally is Selved, gathering all into one cynosure? The intergalactic ecology of the womb, cruciform fullness of Christ in Mary. This is the drowning that unbreathes me.

October twilight. This praise-song a thud of the last ripe pear, falling into darkness, into the night of unknowing, unknowing everything but this: My flesh is the ground of the sacred, and She whose grace is my next inhalation, She who weaves this diamond body from threads of silence, She whose uterus encircles the cosmos, is deeper inside me than I Am.

Artwork: Star Goddess Astéria, Etsy print