The Honeymoon

Always there is the honeymoon. In every situation there is a time of wonder and awe.

And then the drum begins to beat softer and the smoke settles into its old routines and spirits are able to rest...

What seems like a let down is really only settling in, becoming part of that which was so novel, so romantic and more like a story book tale, or fairy story. I doubt if prince charming found chopping through the weeds around sleeping beauty's castle quite the joy it sounds like in the book. There was sweat and aching muscles, a few thorns stuck into fingers and probably more than a second thought or two when bumble bees wandered too close, or the lost snake slithered by.

Ecstasy is a temporary condition. If it overstays its welcome there is no room for growth and decay begins from the inside out. Life is a circle, filling up and letting go, filling up and letting go. Stopping the flow is unnatural.

Tonight I let go with the sacred sage and the music of my flute, listening to the night birds, playing to the moon, emptying myself in readiness for another day, another moment, another blessing.