and there they were... just the two of them.. with names like shiva linga simphonia & her partner rama llama more-blessed-than-yo-mama... or something like that...
and they were simple. quiet. humbly sitting in the corner waiting for their plate of warm plant food or setting up mats in a quiet corner of the dome to do some simple breathing, moving... whatnot... unlike all the other swirling, dancing, fairy-wing laced grandeur all around them i remember thinking they were so simple.. so humble. so plain. something so unassuming about their mannerisms and their presence... it made me think there must be something deeper, more lovely & real in whatever offering they were there to present that weekend. no fanfare, no entourage... no floating feathers & vegan fair-trade lace trailing behind them to announce their glorious arrival. just the two of them- silent- hand-in-hand - dressed simply in white smiling - waiting, for the next assignment to emerge, guitars and sticky rubber mats at the ready. waiting. breathing..
and so whenever they cruise into town they offer this workshop... a puja in fact... which i suppose is just a fancy, easternly-borrowed word for a ritual - that glorious transmogrification of the ordinary into something Other - a deifying of space... consecrating the oh so mundane and rendering it sacred.... and they call it the Altar of Love - i don’t know what it looks like - i believe it involves cacao in some form or another - and i imagine there is candlelight - and soft music - perhaps recitation of words not quite english - perhaps bells and gongs and the laying on of hands and gazing into another pair of eyes for interminable periods of time and breathing deeply into sustained, otherwise uncomfortable silences...
but they offer it again & again... there must be something there.
and i have never taken it. don’t know if i will. maybe just slink off on my own to some darkened corner and eat an overpriced chocolate bar there - listening to the nutty nubby of its crunch in my mouth, between my imperfect teeth, let the flavors sit a moment longer than usual upon my tongue and think about sweetness.... in all its’ forms... (and maybe bitterness too - the flavor that is chocolate to begin with, no??) then brush my grubby hands off on my well-worn jeans and continue on with the day.... having knelt for a moment at my own little altar.... tasted sweetness, bitterness, et al.. in the quiet corners of my own little shrine... my home.. my cavity... the quaint and messy ode to being i’ve helped to consecrate... with paint and artwork, records & instruments, wrinkled tapestries and hand-me-down furniture --- and more books than you could possibly read... this. my altar. my day. my corner. my bittersweet chocolate bar - my own little puja …..
and i keep thinking about this thing - the altar of love - it’s a phrase that keeps coming to mind over the past week or so - where absolutely nothing has been going right - where all i can think about is death and madness - shitty diapers and piles of laundry... this quietly eeking into domestic non-existence.... all the lights once shone so bright now fading down into a molten, screaming monotone of white... kitchen paint fluorescent... the colors which once danced now static... painted. flat. wallpaper. chipped.
altar of love - because in the midst of this desperate domesticity - where there is little sex, ugly brown carpet & endless, mindless to=dos waiting for me... there is this pinpoint - this radiant, sunspot of light glistening right in the middle - my daughter - cliche and corny though it is to say -radiant and beautiful and smiling and gurgling and screaming and pooping and....... well - it’s her. this beautiful upshoot of sheer life force - who at times i cannot even handle. cannot navigate. but her. so beautiful and lovely and raging and pure - and there are times right now - as she is so young and pliant and still baby-smelling and light - that i breathe her in - deep down into the pit of my belly - into the base of my pelvis - down the length of my spine - into the pith of my bones..... and it is the purest form of love that i know - and i tell her - absentmindedly whispering, cooing into the side of her hair - that you know when i’m with you all i want is to be with you - that andnothing else - no bills to pay, no chores, no lists or planning or phone calls or grown uppery bullshit - just this - this rolling on the floor and eating cheerios and squeaking, shrieking at the funny noises that emit from our bodies and our throats - growls, squeaks, delight - that everything done with her is auxillary - a divine chore - from the steaming of broccoli to the tucking in of endless fluffy blankets to the giving of baths - to the umpteenth reading of the seussian foot book of that day - all these things - endless, tissuey pages in the larger TomE - that is my deep Deep LOVE for her - and i take her and i hold her and i breathe her sweet sweet floating, dizzying scent - and all of a sudden i remember that this is it - the job i have signed on for - so sweet, intoxicating, neverending and exhausting - the business - the busy-iness of LOVE - this thing dwelling so deep inside my belly and my bones... my unpaid profession of right now which takes up all my time, my mind and energy - which at times leaves me feeling all dried up, aged, whithered and beaten.... - but lets me hold this thing in my body - my tissues absorbing the nutrients it gives - LOVE - to know it so deeply and purely - a joy so piercing it can make you weep. ….. …
altar of Love..... something involving cacao.... for it is lingering, and bitter... just as much as it is sweet. … A Puja... by any other name..... the deity wearing fornow the face of my sweet-puffy-faced child. …. rosy cheeks and slippery smiling lips. … 6 teeth... and a slight rash from where she rubbed against the sofa... and i - me - enmeshed inthis daily bit of offering - myself, my talents, my time - my life force, and energy - all engaged (even when sleeping it seems ) in this business of Love - to know it, sense it and bow to its’ presence now planted deep within me... thought it takes all i am - leaves me with little to offer to the man i share this baby this bed with,,,, little reserves for the endless projects and beautiful dreams and imaginings i would also like to birth into the larger sphere of the world... altar of Love... how i gaze upon it every day.... my eyes so accustomed to its beauty sometimes i can’t see... … i live here now. daily.
and my reverence is not what it could be - and my devotion is weak and wandering - and still …. and still....
i have been granted this goodness. my kernel of Divine blessing & beauty in smelly, soggy pants form. … and i am learning to see it. i am learning, broken down, splayed wide at times... what it takes to be a devotee... lose my life (the one i dreamed about and seem to have misplaced somewhere between the electric bill and the thank you notes i have yet to write ) in order that i may find IT. It the big I-T. - learning day by day what it means to abandon your smallness and all my ideas on what i thought this life should be - the form my Love should take and inhabit - and offer it up to that larger Being - altar of Love - i quietly rest my head... i bow.
