In the morning drink
a cup of translucence and
The phrase ‘just let go’ rolls off the tongue easily, deceptively so. Letting go is a form of love that tangles with roots deep in everything. And yet comes a time, sooner or later, and mostly likely sooner, we know we must.
So start with something simple, such as labels, the adjectives of ego. And like graffiti, as I slow down to the speed of love I see that I have scribbled them everywhere. My labeling of the elements of my experience creates virtual realities, often with very little virtue.
But because I have created this reality I know its mine, so I have the right to judge it, damn it. It says so in the contract my free will wrote. And it feels damn good being a judge, even in a self-constructed courtroom. The drama is only before me and I sit above it. Rendering my judgement on the good and bad and ugly of it. And my word is final, case closed. This is just the way it is. It has been ordered and can be put to bed. Law and order have been preserved.
I can let it go . Case closed.
But as the robes come off at the end of the day, I realize I forgot something important. And even when going to sleep, it hovers just out of my reach. But as I dream, and my breath takes over, I see beyond my virtual reality, that everyone in the court wears my face and I only sit in judgement of myself.
A funny thought enters my dreaming mind, how much my robe looks like a burqa, the hiding dress of many middle-eastern women. And like them, I too am hiding some form of love that I do not even have a name for.
So I appeal to a higher court.
And she steps down and takes off the robe. And as she approaches me she places one finger across her lips and I hear the single sound ‘ssshhhssshh’.
And only as I leave the courtroom of my thoughts and listen to it fully does it dawn on me that I am listening to my own breath.
No judgement anywhere.
I am free to go.