wind chimes and wonder

I head for the cemetery, the sun is warm and gentle. People are riding their bikes, smiling, saying hello on the streets. I am reminded that we're in this thing together. We're one. I had listened to "Within you, without you" earlier while making my breakfast and in this moment, I understand it.

I follow the concrete river and my feet know an imaginary current, carrying me to the triangles of light between the shadows of the trees. I follow these veiny shadows of the limbs until I find myself under a tree, close to the side of the road. I startle some squirrels, and I watch them scurry into a hole in a tree stump in the ground. Feeling like a home invader, I sit for a minute and scan the horizon. Two small clouds intersect, but for once I understand the delight in the clear blue sky. I do not wish for clouds. I can see forever. I follow two birds with my eyes as they finally become dots and then disappear. As my eyes come down from the sky I see my tree, upon on the hill above section 44.  I walk to it slowly and settle myself in the shadow of its center. I stare for awhile at the kaleidoscopic shapes that surround me. I know them so well. I take deep breaths. I begin to believe again.

I feel a kinship to the trees. We both have grown tired of the cold winter, we've been stripped bare and we bear no fruit. We offer sparce shelter, and we appear dead. Our seeds have helicoptered and parachuted to the ground. I lay down and peel my shirt off. I'm out of clear view, and I allow the warmth of the sun to touch my bare skin. I feel like a virgin being touched for the first time. I feel new. I stare directly into the sun, but i know it is far too mighty to hold my gaze. I know I can't see it's fullness, it would blind me. I let out the anxiety of winter. I exhale my fear. I return to life- here, among the dead. I feel the earth pulse beneath me. In this moment I do not fear becoming one with it. I already am. I hold hands with the bones of my ancestors beneath the still cool and stiff earth. I sense it starting to soften, as I am doing the same. I let go completely. I am delightfully alone, but i know alone is not alone. In the distance i hear wheels of bicycles and see figures far in the distance, hesitating at time worn stones that stand now crooked and plunge from the horizon. Soon we will blossom. Leaves will return. I see redemption in everything.

I hold a spiky seed in my hand, while I continue along the path, and I learn the right way to hold it. I secure it in my palm but take care not to squeeze it too tightly. I think I must be learning something about holding on to beauty, or to people. I walk a little further past a graveyard of cut trees, their limbs piled and bundled like meat by the side of the road. I see the stumps where they took root, and the dust that lay beside them in piles. I pick some up and throw it in the air and watch the wind carry it along. I dizzy myself trying to count the rings, and marvel at these many years of life, the stories and history trapped between the rings.

Today is the first day of spring and I sense it in every thing I see. My inner desires have shifted with the moon and the tides. I am grateful for change.

I pass the cave and my favorite graves, the ones covered in moss with their letters nearly erased completely by the wind and rain and time. I prefer the humble stones that just indent the ground. You can stumble upon them and be surprised. Even the memorial of this life has become a clean slate that marks the memory of a mother, a son, a husband.

I gather things slowly, hardly knowing why. I pluck some violets from the earth, some seeds, a slice of the fallen trees. I find fake flower petals, and I  bring those too. At home I make a shrine and have a little ceremony. I write my intentions on beautiful paper and fold it into a fan. I burn it in a bowl of soil, and mix the ashes in. I plunge the seed into the bowl, and stick the violets into some moss. I burn incense, and I meditate and pray. This spring is going to be different for me, I am continually being made new. At 5AM I wake to the sound of warm spring rain. I light the candles from the night before, and stare out the window, I am hypnotized by the steadiness of the the rain. I feel a peace come over me that I haven't felt in a very, very long time.