Moon and Sun dancing

I remember living and dying as a subjugated native Navaho. It was long ago, or as my people used to say, it was many moons ago. Yet, the tastes of hunger, abuse, humiliation and powerlessness linger on, as bitter as if then and now had never been apart.

Anger and rage have always coursed in my veins, red blood, burning with yearning for justice. Justice for the blows received, for the fallen, for Mother Earth and all her abused children. So I grew up with a lot of rage pent up in me -visceral one might say. In my youth, this often got me into trouble. Lots of trouble...

Yet, I always seem to have been pursuing a different way. For also, within me, there always resounded a call for peace and compassion, an inner voice that is always calling for forgiveness and letting go.

I remember living and dying as a displaced Buddhist monk, a refugee, an isylum seeker, in South India, pursuing, amongst others like him, a life that is in total acceptance of the ways of creation.

It seems that the sum total of my life journey is but a dance between these two currents.

Fire and water dancing. The heated blood of mother earth and the cool winds of mother sky.

Moon and Sun dancing.