Learning to Meditate: Part VI

Sitting in the stillness of the sanctuary,
in the community of friends,
wondering where tonight's journey
will take me.

Breathe in. Breathe out... release.
Pre-established rhythms
guide me along, almost trance-like,
breathe in, breathe out... release,
until I become aware there is more.
This time another word edges in.

Receive.

Suddenly, or perhaps finally,
I become aware of the invitation.

With my breathing, my thoughts carry me
to a high ridge, where I am sitting with my daughter
watching a bird playing with the wind
as the clouds roll over the landscape.

Soaring, then diving, once again climbing
with wings outstretched, higher and higher
only to tuck its wings and dive again.
No visible purpose, no clear destination.
Simply what appears to be the playfulness
of the Spirit, made visible by the wind.

I hear the same message, high on the ridge
and in the quiet of the sanctuary --
"you have my permission to release your worries
and receive my joy."

Breathe in, receive.
Breathe out, release.
Intertwined and connected.

Experiencing the Spirit,
my heart soars.

But what if?

Rarely speaking openly about his faith,
he chose instead to live it.
His choices and priorities
giving definition to what he believed.
The very core of who he was.

Now, when his eyes stare off into the distance,
when his words no longer make sense,
it's easy to imagine that he has lost that center.
That the disease is in control,
giving shape to who he is now.

But what if,
with words gone
(and perhaps no longer needed)
his very breathing becomes his greatest prayer?

What if,
the forgotten memories,
the lost abilities, the total dependence
actually help push aside the ego self,
making room for the indwelling Spirit?

What if,
it becomes a gift to bypass the brain
(which so often leads us astray)
and move directly to the heart
with God, not the disease,
writing the ending to his life story?

What if,
the years of decline
do not feel like years to him?

What if,
when we are saddened by what he has lost
we are the ones who are missing what is still there?

Faith...
the very core of who he is.

Thanks Dad.