S. Kiker{sacred art created by Shawnacy Kiker :: thank you for singing of my home}

Days fill with dishes, used tissues, scattered toys, leaves brought in from outside, and garbage that needs to be moved out-of-doors. I rest after washing another sink-full, considering the repeat, repeat : the cycle, recycle : the consuming and the return.

Babies moved me back into my body, back onto this earth. They have returned me to my skin and being. The mundane has brought me home.

mundane {adj.} Pertaining to the Universe, cosmos, or physical reality, as opposed to the spiritual world.

 

I now break, soften, bend, hold, comfort, ripen, and release. I now understand that the mundane has always been my breath and my bones. For, without the grounding force of rising each morning, feeding myself, feeding others, extending, crying, laughing, frustrating, loving, cleaning, and receiving, I would be only spirit hovering above my life. I would still believe myself holy-removed, despising anything or anyone that put me back into my body and my matter.

“Move away from the story-line to the actual felt quality of the moment. Become more intimate with the felt energy of the moment. Become intimate with this actual moment of being.” :: Pema Chodron

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