Melting

Melting all over the table, the dish was not large enough to hold all the water from the thawed ice sculpture. Should have thought of that ... container and form. It was making a mess, starting to drip over the edge, plopping onto the floor, slowly at first. But now that the water had a channel, a destination, it almost seemed as if the melting increased in speed. The beautiful swan, created so very carefully, was becoming a lump, smooth and slippery instead of feather-frosted and defined, and her shape was disappearing, becoming nothing and everything all at the same time.

She could be reshaped, even now, and put in the freezer again to be held stiffly in esteem in a set form, or she can continue her journey of release, and rejoin the broader ocean beneath the earth--the core ocean where all is healed instantly. 

Thawed becomes the world's polarity where tipped out of balance, unable to prepare, only watching in horror and/or amazement as we shift into a new phase. Once frozen, we can thaw, but nothing of the original remains exactly the same--all is changed a little at the very least, transformed by the moments in stasis as life moved on around us. What happens next?

If we have no fear then we simply open and move within the world that has become unfamiliar due to time passing without us like a Sleepy Hollow effect where we awaken so many years later. Who were we then? Who are we now? 

Hearts frozen, then thawed, until it seems all we know is this moment and the past is gone, melted away into the larger field of existence where it was healed without any fanfare or effort on our part, no struggle necessary, indeed without our even knowing. We are returned to the world in a fresh form and move on from this set point. 

The heat is thawing me, melting residual resistance, dripping all the fearful nodules from joints that had been frozen. Thawed, my muscles begin to soften, the cells easily shift and move and take in what I need, releasing what I don't, releasing the crystalline structures of past experiences like sculpted fortresses of ice melting. And with that warmth going so deeply, even my thoughts and beliefs are thawed, becoming more fluid. And when I feel the cold come in before its time, seeking to control the flexible shapes of potential in passages of presence, I spread wide the blinds, open the windows, place the ice sculpture beneath the sun and we are thawed once more.

Cycles. Mysteries.

All life transforms as we move into new ages; will humans journey further? Will we first need to flow into the ocean, the heart-core of Gaia-manifest, the hidden sea where light and dark dance with joy, in partnership, creating waves and waving fronds of new verdant life? 

Thawed, all becomes possible.

_________________________

While the above stream of writing was prompted by the word "thawed" (ClarityWorks daily prompts), I also see its roots in the heat of the desert and across the country, and, further, images that apparently remained from catching bits of shows on PBS yesterday about global warming, polar ice melting, volcanoes around the world, etc. I don't fear the demise of humans, if that is what happens, but the imagery remained with me of how elements in our world transform and are themselves transformed by others through the grace and power of our living planet, our Mother Earth.