MAGIC IN THE AIR

It began the way a lot of things on earth do, in the belly of the earth or body, waiting to show life again and again.
Or perhaps, the true beginning came long long ago. In a dream offered by a sigh in time. 
It rippled and rained until it appeared in form.
The place was chosen to show its incarnation. A gorge and mountains of wilds heights, birthing the most delicate of beings that hug close to the earth, sprouting from the rocks and streams.
Not many humans live here, most are bowed and fused forward with age, speaking their mind sharply if you try to capture them with any modern tools that keep their image. They prefer to be a moment in time kept quiet.
What is magic? Well. We know. It caused us to whisper, to cry, to sweat, oh and to laugh hysterically. It surprised us with its simple truth. It woke us with its swirling rhythm. It brought us home, to us. Daily it asked us to look in the eye with understanding and kindness. Such a look that it almost turns into a solid as its healing ripples through the cells with rightness.
We took to the river, to let the river show us it’s ever changing route. You imagined the rocks would cause an accident, but the raft twisted and turned a circle, and out we came to continue and gurgle our way back into the crystal blue. Why did we think it was so hard to move forward?
When had we forgotten that we were being held?
The sun sparkled and blew colors for us in the air, across the water and through each leaf. It lit our hair and eyes and wrapped our shoulders in warmth. Is she really so far away?
We drew the arrow back and aimed at our target. Our third eye already imagining the thunk of arrival. Time folding in half. Action to completion. Manifestation. Alchemy. 

We sweat, we twisted and endured. We sweat again. Burning energy like the sun. The river inside of us being pumped by our incredible heart. To rest with the sound of your own breath at the end of a practice, to sense a tear rolling across your temple, creating a delicate path into your hair. Oh my we are so strong, so delicate like this gorge we are held by.

As the week goes on we merge into one. Dinner becomes a loud affair with gusto. We are hungry! Bring the food, bring the wine! By now everyone in town knows us. The yogis who you sometimes hear howling from the building below. Yet they are quite funny, so lets go talk to them.
Bravery was there every day. Love grew, wider and wilder too. What we found or remembered from a sigh in time we cherish and offer back as we all return home. We thank the whispers of the gorge, the leaning of the tree, the evening barks of the dogs, morning songs of birds, the grace of the river and the stories of our ancestors resting in our breath, awakening to care for us each time we ask.
Thank you Thank you. Magic in the Air