Spring becomes Summer.

Wood becomes Fire.

We are in the window of this shift.

Right now.

In Nature, in the personal, in the Global.

We open ourselves to this Truth;

without much choice, and yes, most certainly with gripping fists,

and fearful eyes that dart the other way.

Yet here we are.

This tilt into a new turn of the Circle.

 

Spring become Summer.

Wood becomes Fire.

Anger becomes Love.

 

There is no way out but through.

There is no path to the Heart

                       (that fire of passion, the soft ember of compassion),

without knowing combustion.

 

Our world’s identity is changing.

Our personal identities are changing.

We cannot run from what is happening around us,

and more difficult still,

we cannot run from what is happening within us.

Our Hearts are being cracked open.

To reveal a sweet, pungent nectar—

Intoxicating enough to dip the tip of a pinky into,

To taste a Heart that cares.

Cares enough to be Angry.

Cares enough to ring out a guttural cry of injustice—

That takes us by our own surprise,

Reminds us of a Heart’s tender power.

 

Anger is an expression of Love.

Anger is action towards what the Heart needs—Demands.

In Nature we learn this from:

Lodgepole pines

Sequoias

White pines                         [let’s appreciate this irony]

 

We cannot get to the Heart

without burning old leaves from the forest floor.

We cannot get to the Heart

without the cones of seeds—of hope, new life—

bursting open with the wise heat of flame.

 

When we surrender (let ourselves burn with the Anger),

Seeds disperse,

Falling quietly, softly,

to a newly ashed forest floor.

Midday’s sunlight breaks down through holes scorched,

parting thick canopy.

Offering a dusty sunrayed whisper of life, as Hope takes root.

Growing seedlings of the next eternal generation of the forest floor.

 

We talk about living from the Heart…

But can we stand to be in the Anger it takes

(to take the ACTION)

to do so?

Only then, when our Hearts have burst open,

                    Broken apart,

                   like the cones themselves:

                   holding hope at the stunning mercy of fire,

Can there be born a new way of life,

but this time, forever different.

This time, from the Heart.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo credit: National Geographic