Pele’s Way (written after my husband Tony’s death)
The volcano erupts suddenly without warning. Its fiery energy sweeps over the landscape of my life, reducing my world to ashes.
No crystalline forms remain. No concepts, no judgments, no rights, and no wrongs, no past and no perceived future remain.
Only the stark emptiness in the present moment remains.
I run from this emptiness into the arms of friends, into the play of children, into the beauty of nature.
I wail and cry and shout against this fate of the visitation of the fire Goddess, Pele, but the barren ash-filled landscape is everywhere I look. I am nothing.
I look to the past to escape, but the pain of all I have lost resides there.
I look to the future, but it is too full of fear.
The present is my only refuge, but all it contains is the desolate emptiness of the burnt landscape.
I know I must surrender to it. All other options are intolerable.
I face into the emptiness, invite it even. There is no sense that life will ever contain anything but this barren ash, the remains of my past life.
Not one thing remains, nothing was considered sacred to the fire.
I stand and wait, and an odd peace comes, in accepting my fate.
The Presence of the present moment, even though empty and barren, calms me, holds me, fills me.
I wait in that Presence for a new fertile earth to form from the ashes.
I stand and wait for the winds to bring the seeds to land in that fertile newly formed soil.
I realize my tears of grief will water the newly planted seeds.
In imagining the first tender sprouting of the seeds, I sense the possibilities of my new life that will arise from the ashes.
© 2009 June Konopka
My husband and I have been together over 30 years. He outwardly adores me. I have more of a cat style of being affectionate. What keeps us together? Love? What is this stuff called love? Maybe love is glue. Maybe love is the glue that keeps things in form. Maybe both subtle and gross objects would keep dissolving back into pure energy without the glue of love. Maybe love keeps the form of our relationship together. Maybe love keeps all things in form.
There is a sweetness we can feel in the glue at times, so maybe the glue of love is more like honey or nectar….sticky and sweet.
© 2009 June Konopka
Surrendering to the Present Moment
Ever so slowly, I am learning that the Present moment contains everything I need. It contains the next step on my path. It contains just what needs to be realized or spoken. Yet, trusting what the present moment wants to tell me is one of the hardest things to do. Compared to my intelligent, analyzing, complex, problem-solving active mind, the information contained in the present moment seems naïve, simple, and not enough, somehow. After all, what can a few body sensations (and/or subtle feelings), floating on a bed of silence, possibly know? Talking, describing, relaying, and analyzing my story must be infinitely more valuable than sitting quietly in the moment and waiting for what wants to arise from the silence.
Having been blessed with a teacher recently who appears to have all the time in the world, I am learning to get the magnitude of the present moment. It is a luxury in this fast paced world to slowly move from one moment to the next moment watching myself unfold, speaking it, and allowing the body time to integrate each new understanding and experience. Who would think there is enough time and space to linger and take up this precious time, especially when each tiny step seems so insignificant. Each moment seems so ordinary.
Yet, Presence holds it all. It is unmistakable. It knows how to move us to freedom. It knows how to unravel the knots in our beliefs. It knows how to guide us to the sweet innocence of our own hearts. It knows how to give us the peace we long for. It knows how to carry us to the God Source.
If I find a sense of resistance inside to my heart’s desire and bring presence to it, I will have its key. Right at that interface between what I want and the impossibility of it, is stored, as if in a tiny computer chip, all the information of the resistance. Contained there are all the memories, the reasoning, the conclusions, the feelings, the body reactions, that make up that resistance. The silent love contained in Presence transforms this resistance as I listen silently to its story.
Presence, linked together in moments, appears like a river we might call Life. This Life is intelligent. It seems to know where to go next. It has direction. This Life has heart. It has an impulse to move. It moves with loving compassion in service to It’s creation.
© 2009 June Konopka
Tears Dancing Like Flowing Rivers
I watch as the seeds of humanity are planted on this Earth. I, like a rock, wait, unmoving, unmovable…waiting…waiting for Life to become conscious of Itself.
That done, I wait again…waiting for that new consciousness in Life to become conscious of Me. To seek Me. To invite Me. To dance with Me. To join with Me. To receive My blessings.
I didn’t even know I held tears inside Me, but I cry as the time to dance is now upon Me. I cry tears of grief over how long the wait has been. I cry over the unionless eons. I cry over all the acts of brutality born of separation.
I cry tears of joy in dancing with My Lover now. Am I the Creation, now conscious? Am I the unmovable Watcher? Confusing, I dance as Two in One.
I cry tears of longing and compassion when I notice any speck of conscious Life that does not dance with Me yet.
© 2008 June Konopka
It happened one day that I experienced pure white light freshly emerged from Consciousness. I can see why it doesn’t happen everyday. It’s pretty intense, at least in my experience. The white light of Consciousness before it breaks up into all the brilliant rainbow colors is very bright. It is a relief to have it fall into the heart and break up into the colorful activity of life.
Through the heart, I learned there is but one fabric of creation, completely connected, with all kinds of designs (songs) contained in the One. Yin and yang, are the first two primal dancing snakes, one Light, the other Darkness. They are the secret of manifestation. The pulsating dance of Light and Dark is the primal song of Consciousness. The sound breaks up the Light into rainbow colored snakes. …..snakes busy in every direction…. coiling, wavy, straight….weaving, weaving, weaving. Dancing in many sizes, shapes, colors, and designs, they weave the entire fabric of creation. They are the colored river of life. One can know this if not too mesmerized by all the colors and designs of creation.
They dance to a song from Source. They dance to our songs too, with particular enthusiasm, if our true songs are arising from Source within our own hearts. A song could be anything that thrills one’s heart….a drum beat, a chant, a rattle, a hum, a tone. Our individual conscious awareness, if identified with the Consciousness of the Supreme Creator, thrills the dancers in particular…they love to dance for the Creator. We sing from our hearts, and they dance. Add strong intention and they dance with a particular purpose, creating exactly what we want. We are not only Conscious Awareness as the ground of all that Is. We own the ability innately to be the creator/director of creation.
I want to sing sweetly. The snakes are very beautiful and I want to give them the gift of my song.
All this activity, at times, rests in one huge earthen-colored snake, Yukamama, in the center core of the Mother Earth and our own bellies. Coiled, huge, she holds all the smaller snakes quiet for awhile, contained inside of her. All that remains is deep, deep undisturbed dark Silence. In her grip, she shows us what blocks us from knowing and singing our Song.
© 2008 June Konopka
In The Face Of Eternity
Ask your question, oh dear one.
Ask it from the most wounded part of your heart.
Ask it over and over again.
Look into my face.
Look into the eyes of Eternity and ask your question.
Can I trust?
Am I safe?
Is it okay to be killed?
Am I lovable? Valuable?
Do I exist?
Do you see what the answer is?
When you see the answer you will weep.
Then you will laugh, sing, and dance.
© 2009 June Konopka