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| Artist: Susan Seddon Boulet |
I know we have bodies...bodies behind desks...cash-registers...computers...sex...sinks…treadmills...
ovens...link in the chain-strain...bodies full of stress, dressed and waiting
for the other shoe to fall,
in whatever way, yes...but we always have our right minds too. Everything is Everything, after all,
big and small, we are juxtaposed, both with life and with death, with nothing...and everything,
with that, get 'er done left brain...and Let It Be, right side, again.
Through that right mind, I invite you...come, sit with me, if you will...still...between this moment
and the next, before anything might, or might not be.
See outside, a gentle rain falls without a sound, to grateful ground. Light drops tat themselves together,
knots that make a lace curtain, hanging from curved rail of a mist through the trees. Breathe...oh yes, that breath, in and out, between birth and death, breath, in and out. Listen to that rushing stream, air, in and out. I take four real bellows-from-the-bottom breaths, and realise how different it is from shallow, stressed,
only top of the chest breathing. Creates space inside, a place of peace on the right side, come sit beside me,
in a pyramid of violet light.
I can feel the rain upon my face, my breath catching with the wind...and I breathe the magic word.....Ataraxia...it makes a foreign voice from the everyday...Ataraxia...the state of freedom from emotional disturbances and anxiety...Ataraxia. Rain, tears, wind, breathe...trees beneath and rising,
twisting through the mist...the sky...the stars...the orbiting rhythms that make us fly.
I'll meet you, midnight at the oasis, or morning on the mountain-top. We'll walk along
a crescent beach, finding shells...we'll pick heather in the highlands and make
Medicine Circles everywhere. Never despair, for the door is right there,
and I've come a-knockin'. Breathe and be free, for this is a gift built-in, the door out,
within
in whatever way, yes...but we always have our right minds too. Everything is Everything, after all,
big and small, we are juxtaposed, both with life and with death, with nothing...and everything,
with that, get 'er done left brain...and Let It Be, right side, again.
Through that right mind, I invite you...come, sit with me, if you will...still...between this moment
and the next, before anything might, or might not be.
See outside, a gentle rain falls without a sound, to grateful ground. Light drops tat themselves together,
knots that make a lace curtain, hanging from curved rail of a mist through the trees. Breathe...oh yes, that breath, in and out, between birth and death, breath, in and out. Listen to that rushing stream, air, in and out. I take four real bellows-from-the-bottom breaths, and realise how different it is from shallow, stressed,
only top of the chest breathing. Creates space inside, a place of peace on the right side, come sit beside me,
in a pyramid of violet light.
I can feel the rain upon my face, my breath catching with the wind...and I breathe the magic word.....Ataraxia...it makes a foreign voice from the everyday...Ataraxia...the state of freedom from emotional disturbances and anxiety...Ataraxia. Rain, tears, wind, breathe...trees beneath and rising,
twisting through the mist...the sky...the stars...the orbiting rhythms that make us fly.
I'll meet you, midnight at the oasis, or morning on the mountain-top. We'll walk along
a crescent beach, finding shells...we'll pick heather in the highlands and make
Medicine Circles everywhere. Never despair, for the door is right there,
and I've come a-knockin'. Breathe and be free, for this is a gift built-in, the door out,
within
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