An eternal Child playing an eternal game
in the eternal garden.– Sri Aurobindo
If God is this, then what am I? I am the eternal Play.
She swayed with the rhythm that words make as they soared off the page and into my astonished mind. Everytime I trip over my cat she roars with laughter and wonders when I might get the joke. She runs through her garden of Light, and from time to time she spins, arms open, chest bare. And, from time to time she falls. And when you get close enough to her when she hits the ground, you can see in her dazed eyes the reflection of a homeless man, an anorexic teen or a drug addicted father. Sometimes she scampers across open fields, sometimes she falls – The Child is just learning. She doesn’t always know when to stop spinning, when to stop yelling out her sacred poetry. And when she falls, she cries – like when butterflies tease her and the thorns of eternal roses poke her fingers. She cries, but then look! A squirrel chasing a blue jay! An airplane zooming! Bubbles tickling! Downward dog barking! Maybe she’ll be ok afterall….