turning upside down

Sometimes I measure my life span in terms of what part of the story I am experiencing. I think of dying as not being able to know what comes next. I am witness to a huge and multifaceted tale of wonder and fear, love and astonishment, and even mediocracy-peacefully watching, musing until I am swept up by the tsunami of my life and I grasp at the surface, fighting for air.

It is an amazing story, though. I float up to heights beyond measure, and imagine that I am peering down on the yin yang of it all. The yin yang, perhaps the most elegant symbol ever imagined, tells the whole tale: light circles dark circles light in the most cosmic of dances. There is no other way to experience the unfolding of appearing-you must be caught in its currents, dashed against rocks and lifted again. You are alive, and there is no way to turn off the drama

unless you can turn to the silence of turned off words as witness, even as you crash downstream, to the incredible stillness of it all. Because it is still. It is a mere gesture. The same characters born again; flowing through their adventures and pulling us all along with them. We, too, are pulling others into a ceaseless drama-maybe of good and evil- maybe of finding love, or revenge unless

you find that still point

that expands everywhere

and nowhere

at once

Namaste,

Leslie