martes, 19 de febrero de 2008

The littlest dakini

Once upon a time in a land closer than you might imagine, there lived the littlest dakini. Sofia Alegre was her name. She had many sisters. They made sure sure she had plenty of time to play. She played in the forest. She caught the light that fell between the branches. She played by the seaside. She skipped over the lapping waves. As each wave receded she skimmed her toe in its transparent wake. At night she danced with the fireflies. Her friends were the birds that sang at dawn and the ones that sang at dusk, announcing the coming of day, announcing the coming of night. Sometimes, most often at full moon by the sea, her sisters would join with her and dance in a circle. Sofia was mesmerized by the utter grace of each of her sisters-- some of whom had were barely older than she, and others who had been through many, many, almost countless cycles of the moon. Watching her sisters and listening to her own inner guidance, she learned to become fire, air, water and earth. She learned to fly like a falcon, to swim like a dolphin... They danced for hours, though it seemed like "no time at all, or perhaps", Sofia thought to herself, "like all time at once." Time was a mystery she sometimes pondered as it seemed more fluid to her than the ocean itself, and it seemed like no thing at all, yet the effects of its flow could be seen. She was growing up. First she grew taller, her wheat-colored hair grew longer and longer, then her body filled out and its form changed into vivacious curves. Her curiosity as a woman and about relationships grew. She saw that some of her sisters had life-long partners, others had joined and separated many times, yet others chose a path of intimate solitude. Some took vows of commitment to a partner, some vowed dedication to solitude, all took a vows of service to humanity and all sentient beings in need-- each had her own style, and in time each became a skillful teacher. "I should like a partner who does not bind me," Sofia thought, "one who is my equal, he shall be kindred to fire and earth, he shall be a brother of the coyotes, and he shall know the tenderness of a baby puppy's breath and the generosity of Tara, he shall know how to build a home and adore me unconditionally and challenge me to new depths through our dance of creation, and of solitude and togetherness."

domingo, 17 de febrero de 2008

The Moon

The moon like the eye of a halibut flying through the heavens, watches the minnows bound for the Milky Way.

Like the eye of a halibut flying through the heavens is the moon.

Tonight the moon glistens like the tooth of a crocodile poised at the edge of your imagination.

The moon changes hands as often as gypsy travelers join their palms in celebration.

The moon as smooth as silver on the water cascades over the shoulders of a lost child.

Today the moon grasped the sky, she held him to her belly, closer than a whisper.

The moon, like a silver coin, is the currency of the stars-- they will exchange her virtue for 1000 fireflies. These the gypsies will steal to make lanterns.

Like a dish of milk laid out on a glistening carpet, the moon awaits the innocent indiscretion of a yawning kitten.

Like a platinum pendant glistening on the blossom of the night, her bosom rising and falling with each breath, her gaze is immersed in the ecstasy of each moment. This-very-moment.

The moon is an allusion to a deep nocturnal well of light, a hare once said on his way to a party.