This Love is Our Ground and Our Sky

Last night I dreamed a dream within a dream.

My body was dying, it was clear death was imminent, and I was faced with the horrifying vulnerability of not being ready; who could take my place with my children, who would possibly love them as I love them? They are so little still, they wouldn’t even remember me. I hadn’t had time to give them all I wanted to, needed to.

There was a sense of scrambling against the moment, desperately attached to our world, my body and its roles. Inside the dream I presenced anger, despair, terror, a total loss of control. How could this be, how could I be taken from them, while they are still so young, while I am still so young, so in love?

I ranted and sobbed in the dream, fighting death, fighting for my children’s right to keep their mother.

And then I consciously chose to awaken from this innermost death dream, into a closer dream of sobered breath; feeling my actual aliveness, and feeling so utterly grateful. I looked out over the horizon in this dream, the sun was rising and my mind was still: Life is here for now.

And then I woke into this closest waking dream, our real morning life, sun shining in through the bedroom windows, my children snuggled in close for morning cuddles, their small soft skin bodies so amazingly warm, all of our hearts so preciously vital, beating freshly with the new day. I smelled the raw aliveness in their hair, their skin, their breath, noted the exquisite shining in their morning eyes; felt their still-so-little selves curled into their beloved Mamabody, luxuriating, drinking deeply from the hugeness of this love embrace.

And then we rose into the rhythm of our day, as though death had not just been so intimately met, once again. Our morning: so full, so dynamic, so challenging, so blessed.

This love is our ground and our sky. To be so grateful for just this day, is what makes the reality of our utter fleetingness, the truth of our temporary flesh, and total uncontrollableness of life, the ever-closeness of death, somehow bearable. When held so intimately close, the mysterious presence of death in life illuminates the tender gorgeousness and aliveness of what and who we love.

For today at least: we cherish and are cherished, we are alive and we are in love. May we all awaken inside this dream to the truth of our own hearts.

Jesua Love

embodylove.com

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