The other day I was lying in bed watching the snow fall. I became aware of the cyclical nature of my own breaths, and thought about how much of life unfolds in cycles. Sometimes within my experiences of life cycles, I have been, to put it mildly, frustrated. Frustrated that I seemed to be at the same place again (although, of course I was not), frustrated that my life which I envisioned in a linear manner was not cooperating. Within the cycle of my breaths, though, as I thought of life, and thus, of God (however you imagine this to be) I thought that perhaps God gives us some cycles so that we many never be truly lost. We always have a place, a home to which to return.
God playing Van Gogh
with complementary colors
Out my window.
Snow, lazily drifts upwards,
giving indication of the wind
The flakes seemingly confused
for a moment before
succumbing to their destined pull of gravity.
Could I be as complacent and welcoming
in my knowledge of such
Death comes to mind.
So I lie in bed and notice my breath,
reassuring myself that death
will wait at least another moment.
I teach this cycle in my anatomy courses-
The cued rhythm of Sa-Ta- Na-Ma
joins the chant.
Existence- life-death- rebirth
I live the cycle of Sa-Ta-Na-Ma
but I do not teach it.
Nor do I teach the following, which
I know to be true-
God gives us cycles, so we do not become
lost in visions outside of our windows.