Dreaming with Creation

I think it is a blue moon. It is beautiful, ripe and full, like a juicy guava rolling up the horizon, and the night is mellow and tempered, a well-lit break from weeks of chilly rain. I seem to always write on the last day of leading a journey here in Teotihuacan, precisely when I feel most tired by five days of roasting under the sun and guiding the willing and trusting people who’ve shown up here through the mysteries of ancient pyramids and into their own souls. But it is also when I feel most full of creative energy, buzzing from my dance with the refined energy and vibrations in that great sacred city, very much alive in spite of its “ruined” appearance today 1500 or 2000 years after its construction. I also feel very much alive.

Today I am inspired. I am inspired by the moon and her gleaming face watching over our fire as we burn prayers up to her and into the starry fabric of deep sky beyond. I am inspired by the sun blinking at me like God’s eye, a multicolored mandala sunbow as the iris, watching our work for hours in the pyramids. I am inspired by how lush and rich a cactus garden can be, surreal life forms offering us flowers and fruit grown from thorns, and I am inspired by climbing into the earth under the garden into dark caves where women can drum and sing, scream their pain into the soil and stone, and emerge healed, eyes bright and shining, faces glistening with sweat like diamonds reflecting sunlight. I am inspired, I am humbled by the power in the act of a woman taking pen or paintbrush in hand, stepping into the river of words and images, and allowing the current to wash over them, allowing themselves to be swept away, allowing the words and images to flow down their hands and out their pens and brushes into form.

I am inspired by creation, as if I could hold in my awareness for a tiny moment all of Creation, Creator, as if it were like this: In spirit I rise. I am light of new fire, eternal, always old. I am your heart expanded into all places, all hearts, all breaths, all motion, all sight. I am descended and ascended. It begins with you for we are here. We are here and there is only the height of the night for as far as you can feel with your heart, and there is only the bright shimmer of all the suns that are your cells. The grass blades sway with baubles of flower petals, purple and laughing at your small stories of what is, for the flowers are universes in themselves. They are reflections of galaxies made small enough for you to understand that everything petaled out from center, great sparks of pollen seeding life for lifetimes, millennia in one second. The veins in the leaves, in your bodies, in your currents of water, and rivers of stars all lead life back to the heart of it all, one great pulsing heart beating at the center of it all, beating and pulsing life into the center of it all where you are. Here you are.

Image: Sunbow/Sundala over Temple of Quetzalcoatl, Teotihuacan, 2012, photo by Emily K. Grieves