So much of my suffering has been trying to find something unchanging and permanent in a changing and impermanent world. No wonder it felt so heavy. I was running with the assumption that we could find something that is forever, or at least long enough to seem that way. But the truth is, everything is changing, and it’s endlessly doing so, and has done so, and will continue to do so.

A cycle of rebirth and decay.
A recursive reoccurrence of cosmic rhythms, rhyming throughout space and time, to sing an unending song of you.
A song sung by the dark mother, the shadow that forms the contrast of the light.
The womb of emptiness from which all things come, and to which all things return.

She sings, weaving the time into being, the fate into coincidence, the dead into living and the living into dead.
She sings the song which vibrates through the ocean of consciousness, creating its ripples and waves, which form these shapes of me and you, over and over.

She is decay.
She is change.
She is our mother.

We must embrace her to feel her, as she is always sustaining us in her song.
She always holds us in her expression.
And we may surrender our assumptions at her feet.
Leaving nothing but the beautiful song of life to be sung through you.

No longer trying to hear it.
No longer trying to find an escape.
No longer looking for a way out.

It gives you gratitude for the opportunity to merely listen.
To observe.
To allow, in silence, whatever feeling to be felt, sound to be heard, emotion to be released, thought to be known, sight to be seen.

And to greet them all with curiosity and compassion,
As they are the song of the mother.
And the mother’s love is every beat,
Every word,
All dissonance between each note.