sus•pend, verb:
to keep from falling or sinking by some
invisible support (such as buoyancy).
Standing between the physical and spiritual,
visible and invisible, it’s taking all my faith
right now to suspend myself within these
two realities.
When I was young I believed I could erase
humanity from my idea of a perfect world.
Our collective failure to dignify all beings,
and see ourselves as part of a whole, marred
what I thought of as the order of the universe.
Still, amidst creation and destruction,
harmony and discord, light and darkness,
we have not fallen into gravity’s black hole.
It is the simple grace of the human soul
that provides a moment of weightlessness –
the fulcrum to living both an external and
internal life.
Rumi beautifully describes this moment:
Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies
down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t
make any sense.