““Take off your shoes, for the place where you stand is holy ground.” ~Exodus 3:5
Go outside. Take off your shoes. Breathe sunlight through your fontanelle, the soft spot where the bones of that old story never healed. Feel honey trickle through your neurons, dripping from vertebra to vertebra.
A ray of violet bathes your furrowed brow, washing away the pain, transmuting anger into joyous useful fury.
Rays of golden song-bird yellow caress your throat, healing grief. Your clenched heart-bud softens in a glow of ancient forest green, and 1,000 perfectly wounded petals unfurl.
Knotted thorns in your belly disentangle with a fragrant breeze, the whisper of the name of the Goddess, and you notice the rose that was already there, blossoming in silence.
Now what’s this, fermenting in the cauldron of your hips? Your weary disappointment, turning to purple wine.
Breathe out through the soles of your feet, or so it seems, the shattered sunbeam passing down your spine as through a prism.
Didn’t you know that you were made from infinitesimal love-sparks? This is how you give birth to the rainbow.
But for the surrendered, who have no choice, even light is not enough, beauty is not enough. There is a wilder, more holy secret. The arc of healing does not shower from the sky, it gushes out of the earth.
Give birth to the rainbow that percolates from compost, glow of bone splinters, mushroom spores, song of the earthworm, birth to the piebald treasure of the dead, gift of darkness. Selah.
For we do not exhale through these naked soles, we inhale, breathing loam, pouring our olive-brown energy upward, diastole of crystalline detritus.
We gather tiny relics of our ancestors’ flesh, still warm in embered sacrifice, and fling their swirling ashes into night. They are the stars.”
Fred Lamotte
King Edward Street Chapel 