Lying in bed this morning, I pulled the covers over my head and thought about how much I like huddling in the darkness, curled up into fetal position, held within the warm, dark, soft, soothing nest, no external impressions hurtling at me. (I can sometimes feel that way during Sadhana or after Yoga practice where I’m still, quiet, deeply within.) It’s sublime to sink into the dark, the earth, the rock, to feel the closeness of the ground, the elements that nurture. In my mind, that’s where I am. Yet, on top of a mountain, I revel in the contrast of being able to sense so deeply, while also to feel so exuberant, where all is open and wide and infinite in possibility and ever so limitless, unbounded, and unrestricted where I can soar...and then come back to rest in my cave.
I skim over the-in-between that feels so temporary and transitional, while cave and mountain top bring the extremes of pure sensation and connection. The-in-between feels rushed and hectic and lacking in reality, like just passing through, but the opposites are incredible and like a Cave Swiftlet, I often swoop back and forth betwixt them without tasting the-in-between, without staying long enough to be pummeled by the pressures and chaos and intensity of the heat which is always uncomfortable, the fire and water, mixing but not mixing, straining and pulling, and sharp, feeling like knives that pierce and weight that sinks and constricts and drowns all the air from my body, yet the light above, on the mountain top is purely refreshing, nourishing, providing the light I need to rise up, and the dark cave in which I nest, that cradles and protects, is nurturing, safe, rejuvenating.
Cave Swiftlets (one variety of which there are many)
I saw these amazing little fork-tailed birds (some have a square tail) on one of the nature shows a long while back; they are delightful, and I do hope that that governments start monitoring more closely the harvesting of their ‘edible-nests’ so that the birds don’t become endangered.