the beautiful morning.

for mfp & jb

I love his posts. I suspect he knows they are all beautiful mornings. Yes, light, colour, temperature, the company we keep, surroundings…these influence. But often the sole variation in making the determination to cast it as such is reflected in our own capacity to be open, to meet, to observe, to somatically experience, the beautiful morning.  

He has been on my mind a good deal lately. I miss him. Damn, this fucking virus. I miss all the lovely people.

Recently, he came to me in a dream. There was a lot of silly nakedness in the dream, though it was not of a sexual nature. In the unbounded confines of my unconsciousness, we acknowledged our undraped states. While no words were spoken, we signaled how we both enjoy the playfulness and freedom of movement one has when unrestricted by such things as collars, sleeves, elastic waistbands. We communicated an appreciation of the beauty in our respective physical beings, overlooking perceived flaws that have haunted. We relished in our complete absence of shame. What a splendid dream!

Given my nature, I suppose at some level an unconscious curiosity about him exists.  For watching his movement is to bear witness to an exquisite dance; to be observed by those remarkable eyes is to feel truly seen; to experience him think and contemplate is invitation to a completely different realm of understanding. But it isn’t a longing, nothing unrequited. It is simply a different breed of connection with him. He is, undoubtedly, a lovely human whose presence I enjoy, I am Fortunate to know him and call him friend, this is enough.  

The same morning I woke from this dream, he and another stunningly beautiful and intelligent friend figured prominently on my journey. 

By way of background, when it comes to these two men, there is a commonality to the adventures we are on, but I wish to be careful not to characterize it as a quest. To do so would fail to embrace the concept there is not this thing called a destination.  Yet for lack of a better description, it’s reasonable to observe, we three have each embraced similar ‘paths’. We have adorned fear and resilience and invoked significant heroics in an effort to facilitate deep levels of inquiry. Rising from this inquiry we’ve unearthed peace and laughter after intimately knowing the deadened familiarity of submersion within their diametric opposites.

I am deeply cognizant that both men have known and experienced suffering.

Of the naked one, I know some of his experience and less circumstance. Of my other sweet and stunningly beautiful friend, there has been somewhat more discussion, so I have a slightly better understanding of the struggle and motivations. It is a dialogue I am privileged to engage in. His breadth and voracious appetite for knowledge of spiritual heroes, practices and teachings inspires. His willingness to delve beyond my rambling Jeremiads to understand and reflect back the true nature of my life experience can only be described as pure generosity.

At times, I feel as if I operate in such contrast to a cloak of mystery. Perhaps that is only in my mind, but it feels as if I consistently embody such blatant desperation for answers and deep yearning for peace, I wear ‘story’ on the sleeve. Like a goofy, greedy child, let loose, I projectile vomit across the candy store. Alternatively, I sometimes experience it as an inexhaustible neediness bleeding out all over the sidewalk, as it were. 

As I surrendered to my experience that morning, I couldn’t make sense of it all and simply couldn’t shake the yearning to know more of the history as well as the day-to-day experience of these magnificent creatures.  The degree to which they continue to know and experience suffering – or experience extended periods of being debilitated by it - is somewhat of a mystery to me.  I suspect they continue a dance with darkness, but I am uncertain of the nature of it and how they grapple and move beyond it.

There is a selfishness in this curiosity.  Their answers have potential to enlighten me and guide me toward relief from my own suffering. 

On that particular morning, I longed for their presence so I could ask…

…am I somehow projecting the pain you experience, or do you continue to experience suffering?   

…can you see your own beauty? I mean can really see it? It is fucking incredible.

…can you cease yearning to compensate for whatever it is you believe you lack and know with every cell of your being that YOU ARE ENOUGH?

…can you abandon whatever history has harmed you and appreciate, in this moment, how absolutely magnificent you are?

Suddenly, it became more complicated than seeking answers for my own benefit.  I became confused as I ricocheted between conscious thought and engulfment within the music. While I understood these questions were partly driven by a desire to learn for my own benefit, I also became aware of the depth of love I harbour for these two men. It is beyond something that is felt; it is more of a deep truth I’d experienced but hadn’t quite understood. I suddenly realized my questions reflected deeply-seated desires I contain on their behalf.  I became viscerally aware of how much I wish for them to be rid of their darkness.

I wish…

…for you to experience no more despair.

…that darkness can become an unlearnt memory, so ancient and remote it is barely recognizable to you.

…for you to know, deeply, with all your being, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

…that knowledge of the depth of love that exists within me for you could be enough for you to suffer no more.

For you are beautiful. For you are lovely. For you are kind. For you are more than enough.

For awhile, I danced with the idea I am tragically more flawed and debilitated than both of these men combined.  I begin to ponder whether what I have often felt in my life resonates here: Did I somehow miss a basic nuance to the lecture that the others got? Is this all some sort of projection on my part? Perhaps they have somehow been spared the burden of perpetual difference and apartness. Could it be possible they have reached a place of believing they are enough?  Is what I think I want for them and what I wish to tell them the freedom I really yearn to be able to give myself?

At this point on the trip, my teacher drifts into my consciousness.  That sweetheart, it makes me laugh out loud as I can almost hear him ask something like, “Is this line of thinking absolutely necessary? Can you just relax and enjoy this moment and the capacity of your feeling that you’ve discovered? Can you see your own magnificence in what it is you feel for these men?”

He has taught me so well, this third beautiful being.

As I return under the eye shades and surrender to the depths of the music it seems to move from some solemn choral requiem to a vaguely familiar resolutory clarinet adagio (Mozart?) I attempt to abandon control and thought, though I linger for awhile thinking about these two men.

I am acutely aware how neither has ever judged the machinations of the mind that results in my own chasm of despair (my machinations that is, for they may be quite judgmental of their own.) Each in their own way has, at one time or another, listened intently. Whether through discussing their own experience or responding to mine, they have frequently offered rich alternatives to lingering on the precipice of darkness. I hope I am able to do this for others.

I wonder, can you see how much you have taught me and how different my relationship to life and where I live from is a result of knowing you?  

I love you.  When I think of you, I soften. How beautiful is that?