The shit, the piss, the dirt, the failures, the heartbreak, disappointment, the inability to rise above the holiness of our vulnerability, the achiness when we cannot do this. These are the holy materials we have to work with as alchemists of our own lives. This blackness is the substance of life that shines brighter than a billion suns when transmuted in the crucible of the heart.
While we live in a world that has forgotten the mystery of dissolution, it is the nature of all form to arise and to pass away, so that it may shift shapes into new forms which evidence wholeness. When the forms are shifting, go into the earth, into slowness, into the body, and into the ground, and listen. Feel. Sense. Open as best you can. The temptation will always be to replace the form with something else – urgently seeking some new person, belief system, identity, or way of being to cut into the hot, rich, textured, pregnant, groundless void.
This ancient longing for relief need not be shamed, nor approached with abandonment and aggression, but seen for what it is, honored as valid, allowed to arise, and metabolized. But the deeper invitation is to rest in the deflation itself, to descend inside the core of the creative energies of the dissolution, and take refuge in the intelligence of the naked, the tender, and the raw.
To slow down, finally, and touch the emptiness with love. To become an archaeologist of the inner landscape, to see with cleansed perception the inseparability of inner and outer, and to know the union of matter and spirit. It is up to you to bring these truths into the collective, in a world that has grown a bit weary.