It is a trip we take with some preparation. Snacks, water bottles, extra clothing for cooler night temperatures, camera and maybe a favorite musical instrument are gathered and toted to the car. Fuel tank filled for the drive and ample time to make the journey without rushing through the landscape.
We drive around the edges of town
Past farms and fields
Over the river
Our destination tucked away within the unusual landscape feature known as the Loess Hills.
Rising 200 feet above flat fields and plains in craggy cliffs, a rich soil comprised of quartz, feldspar, mica and other minerals ground into glacial flour and carried to the region by winds (eolian) rather than ice age rivers or lakes. These hills unique in all the world for the depth and intricacy of their features except for a region in Shaanxi province, China although those features have been altered by human habitation.
We wind our way through these hills to come to a temple. A dear friend and a source of inspiration for her ability to manifest dreams and heart energy into walls, shingles, ceramic sculptures, bronze bells created this temple in honor of her guru and mine, Swami Kripalu.
A temple built with love and dedicated to the power of love.
This journey we made in honor of another love as magical and expansive - defying space and time. Returning to the site of our conception ... 8 years later ... a full moon, the same Harvest Moon that is know as the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival in China. It is said the moon shines brightest on this night and under her light we are united with all of our loved ones. Bathed by the light of this moon I prayed for a healthy child. Bathed in the same moon light, but on the other side of the planet, my girl was just 2 days old. Yet here we are ...
now and forever. always.
We came to sing, to celebrate, to remember divine mother's love and to be nourished by the crickets' song, the flight of hawk, swagger of turkey and the dance of deer. When I think I cannot possibly love my girl anymore than I already do, I look over and see her playing the bongos, eyes closed, head tipped back, singing Om Namah Shivaya and my heart cracks freshly open. She expands my capacity for love and I watch her shadow run across the dark fields, my cellphone held outstretched in her hand to shine a path, her hair flowing back and blending into the dark blanket of night and stars and moonlight.
This is our sacred journey ... to remember and celebrate our love and the gifts of this beautiful life. And we bow down to it again and again. Om Namah Shivaya.