A Void That Contains Everything



A Void That Contains Everything

(from Within My Illusions)


In the deepest stillness

there is movement.

In silence there is sound.


I sit in the saffron eye

of a daisy, encircled

by its deep pink,

velveteen rays.

Outstretched.

Outstretching.

Open.


Bees and butterflies dance

an elaborate ballet

in, around, and through

this garden.


Pollinating potential.


Their patterns of motion and rest

are as impossible to predict as

the currents of wind

that move trees to surrender

seeds of intention.


Quiet buzzes through me

until it becomes a part of me,

rearranges me

the way the vibrations

of a song can change

the crystalline structure of water.


Encased in this space,

in the pregnant womb

beyond time and place,

skin dissolves into ether and

I become the dancer

and the dance,

the instrument and the music,

a conduit of chance.

 

One afternoon this week, I was talking on the phone and stepped outside to take advantage of the "Texas fall" weather (temperatures only in the high 80's, and the sun shifted slightly lower in the sky). As I stood at the edge of the deck, looking out at the vista as I often do, I had a sense that I should look down. I noticed that the milkweeds had blossomed and that dozens of bees were feasting on their pollen. Captivated by the scene, I was mesmerized by the bees, the movement of the plants in the breeze, and the subtleties of sound and silence in the background.


When my phone call ended, I sat down on the floor of the deck and allowed myself to become enraptured, if just for a few minutes. At some point while sitting there, I remembered this poem from Within My Illusions. I picked up my phone again to record the bees and their dance so I could make this video with the audio clip of "A Void That Contains Everything" from the Within My Illusions album. You can find the poem in the chapter called "Indescribable" (chapter 5 in the book and track 6 on the album).



Wishing you moments of rapturous joy, wellsprings of possibility, and gratitude for the extraordinary ordinary.


With love,

Jennifer