Once More Round the Sun
Dear friend,
The kettle is rumbling in the kitchen, and Chiara has got the hoover out. Dippa is resting his chin on the arm of the couch, eyes closed, dozing after a long walk on the marshes.
When Scott asked us if we were home for Christmas, I was unsure if we’d be able to handle Dippa. But we got him all wrong. So wrong, in fact, that we’re both thankful we have another week of his company—not even thinking yet about how much we’ll miss him when his family gets home from the States.
Goes to show—you never can tell.
You have to get to know someone before you can even pretend you know them.
Even then.
How well do we know ourselves?
Beyond the noise and clamour of our world.
Beyond even the beauty of nature.
Keep going. Past thought.
Past light.
Beyond energy as we know it.
There is a stillness that is power.
Love is our best word, but language ends before you reach the stillness from which all motion emerges.
We are that which cannot be spoken.
Safe at home in the presence of the great mystery.
Immortal beings, changing form.
The essence of our being changeless.
The surface in constant motion.
As we say our happy new years—
Thank you for coming with me on this trip.
For turning up and reading.
For being you.
What I will is peace.
Do not be fooled by the raging of the oceans.
When the wind drops, the surface will mirror the calm of the deep.
These windbags on plastic thrones will exhaust themselves—but not the earth.
Our mother knows what we must go through.
She is patient.
She knows we will rise up and reclaim our place as guardians and stewards of our planet.
Look fear in the eyes and ask, “What have you come to teach me?”
Draw on the infinite power of humility, kindness, forgiveness, yielding.
Refuse to feed the false self.
Let it deflate.
Wishing you peace.
Over and over.
Peace.
Just say the word under your breath and feel the depths stir.
Till tomorrow
Love,
Mikey