In the feast of the holy
I go to the ocean to have the ferocity of my inner life be met. There is something about walking barefoot on uneven shores with wild waves foaming, reaching, and creating jagged mountains and valleys along the sands. Walking on shores devoid of human foot prints except the ones I make soon to be washed away brings up the eternal. The elemental forces do not compete with the archetypes jostling within but rather dance, encourage, melt until outside and inside do not create a binary division. Here, there is no whisper of artificiality. There is no gossip of conceptual frameworks. Just the waves coming and going. Just the clear blue light in the water as one would find in a geode or the opening of a glacier where the Ganges emerge.
There is no apology or weak sentiments hidden behind politically correct west coast liberalism. Just sheer strength of the truth of the moment. A wave crashing. Plovers sprinting. No boiled down passion as though humans have no pepper and instead are drained cabbages in old Communist Polish soup. No non-duality type language of stories as though story is a dirty word. No, human emotions are not meant to be rationed, categorized, improvised, dismissed, made invisible, medicated nor rationalized.
Why do we speak of the famine of human emotion when who we are consist of both ascent and descent? Is that not the trajectory of the spirit and soul as they vacillate into the fulfillment of themselves? Are we not primal and wild even in the midst of seeking contentment?
Join me in drinking the mist of the waves catching the rainbow light. Allow the waters of your soul to bathe you. Taste it. Take a ripe persimmon and eat it on your loved one’s skin that you may know each other’s body by the inch, not by the part. Sing it until you are madness itself. Smell it knowing as your animal knows the dawn and the dusk.
In the confluence of light and dark, there we meet,
Kathrina Kasha Peterson
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