Uncovering the Sacred Ground Beneath My Feet
Remembering what is already here
This morning a tiny pale moth flew between my face and the mirror as I rose to wash, then landed nearby like a small stick come alive. I said, “Hello,” and also, “I hope you don’t bite.” I wondered for a moment if it was a messenger. It stayed just long enough to be noticed, then was gone.
A moment later, while making the bed and not yet fully awake, I remembered my conversations with Rabbi Tom and then with Mitra at Yogaville about the special energy of the Lotus. Then there flashed in my mind the Torah passage of Jacob waking from his dream and realizing the ground beneath him was sacred.
And then it turned:
Not that ground.
This ground.
Not one holy place long ago, but the place where I am now.
The floor beneath my feet.
The chair, the room, the morning air.
This moment.
Then another feeling came with it:
The ground is sacred.
The moment is sacred.
I am sacred.
Not as ego.
Not as something special apart from others.
But because all of it shares one source.
The changing world is like a moving picture.
Scenes pass. Forms appear and disappear. Stories rise and fall.
But the light behind the film does not change.
The filmstrip moves.
The light remains.
Perhaps Maya is the fascination with the scenes.
Perhaps wisdom is remembering the light.
I am not only the character in the movie.
I am also the light by which it is seen.
Ori.
My light.
Adonai Ori—The Divine is my light.
Spiritual Gravity 