Flying 34 000 feet over the earth’s surface, I am watching the day wane, the clouds reflecting the last soft rays of the sun. At first, the clouds look like sunflowers tracking the sun or small children, wanting to be bathed for just a few more moments in the benevolent gaze of their beloved mother or father. Up here, everything changes so quickly. A moment ago, the skyline turned a red the intensity of a matador’s cape. Seconds later, darkness came to the clouds, flattened into a foamy sea above which I am sailing.
There is something so peaceful up here, hovering above all the people I love below. That is my world, down there, my planet, and up here, my deep attachment to it is always so clearly felt. This is one of my favorite places to think, or just to look out the window and sit in the silence that seems to well up inside me. Something holy about this quiet.
This has been a surprising week. One friend my age, after an emergency admission into the hospital, has learned he has blood cancer. In two days, tests will reveal how severe his condition. Currently, he is told the prognosis is not life-threatening. His wife writes to tell me she is already holding him a little more tightly in her arms. Another friend, not yet 11, has moved closer to London with her family. Her parents know she needs a hospital nearby so that when the inoperable tumor nestled in her young brain is ready to cast its own dark net , her family will be able to keep her comfortable until the end. Each day they share together is the gift.
Last night, a friend calls. She is ready, quite literally, to come out of the woods. After 19 years of dedicating herself to her family, she is ready to go back out in the world, to share her gifts, to be part of a community….
I am told that this is a period of dissolution, and that the energetic invitation du jour is to let go. To let go of ego-centered certainties. To let go of archaic limbic brain-organized patterns that never get updated. To let go of debt and doubt and fear and anger and anything that keeps us little, and teaches our children smallness.
Up here, as clouds bleed into the blanket that evening rides in on, I can let go. I am aware of the death in me, too, even as my cells stretch into new spaces, even as I grow, even as happiness fills out my features and lights up my eyes.
This high up, I fly over you, somewhere down there, on the far side of this cloud blanket.
May you be blessed, May you be happy. May you unfold, like this night, into whoever it is you are becoming, Life in its infinite goodness.