Taya Mâ

immerse in embodied reverence

hands twirling as the path

Met up with a student tonight in a city where neither of us live. I almost nixed the thing, because she was cranky in our brief conversation setting up where to meet. I said yes, with the caveat that it be easy. She showed up sparkling like a cosmic circus act, dancing her way toward me and feeding me local raw goat milk before even saying hi. Our convo quickly revealed that she is choosing whether to stay alive ... not a new question for her. She asked me: Why are you happy that I'm on the planet?

She is someone I love. Someone I know as well as any human has or does - according to her. The answer I gave would matter.

And this question is one that usually I would rock. Appreciation, astute and abounding, is an offering I adore giving. And, yet, in this important of moments, I drew blank. And I knew I couldn't fake it.

I was silent for at least a minute. I couldn't recall the many aspects of awesome she has shown me across years. All I could see was this moment, this bright being, adorned in indigo, along with a cranberry coat she'd scored from my closet a while back. I couldn't find the qualities she rocks. All I could perceive was her vibrance beaming at me, the beauty of her wild vital, her larger than lifeness in that moment, pouring through a body she seemed to barely fit, in a place she definitely doesn't comfortably cotort or squeeze into.

I did my absolute best to be honest while simultaneously rooting so fking much for _her_ rooting in her life and embracing all of what supports that.

Before we parted just now, I embraced her, showered particular blessings on what comes next, and watched her dance away. In my peripheral vision I saw heads turn as she floated by, people perhaps not used to dance out of context, perhaps not knowing that this IS the context. Perhaps just appreciating the bizarre creature gorgeous she radiated. I stopped watching them watch her, and returned to watching her soar away from me, hips swaying, hands twirling as the path, paved in prayer and possibility, opened up before her.

© 2017 Taya Shere

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