we were born before the wind

we were born before the wind
also younger than the sun
ere the bonnie boat was won
as we sailed into the mystic
into the golden gate fog, lands end, at dusk today.
it's been a van morrison kind of day, one with an irish accent and mysticism abounding.
you never know when it's going to happen. the veil between the worlds is lifted, the wind blows strong, fog rolls in obscuring what you think you know and the ground beneath you shifts.

someone who's been a part of me and apart from me for more than thirty years has appeared at the window, and it's a gift and a joy, for however long it lasts. but jacob, who i've known nearly that long, who is truly as a father to me, who is grandfather to my boys, who is one of the most important people in my life and in many people's lives, jacob's being taken from us by cancer, and it's such a loss, it's so hard. my heart is full to the brim. on the one hand, here again is an inspiration, joy and laughter, music and art, love that is timeless. on the other hand, here i face an imminent sorrow i can't even begin to contemplate. and it's the same hand: the one of inexorable, incomprehensible fate.
time spirals helically. you can't distinguish a particle from a wave, and you can't hold on to either one. i close my eyes and see the filaments of time, diamond threads, spiraling around me. i take a breath and open my eyes. i don't know if i've seen this for so long because i help women in childbirth, or if i help women in childbirth because i've seen this for so long.
walking the labyrinth is my contemplative practice, it is ancient grace. stepping onto the path and walking to the center of the labyrinth is letting go, is emptying. time spent at the center of the circle is a still moment of clarity and illumination and strength. returning to the path and following it back to the beginning again is knowing how i am loved and how i love in this world. when you walk wavy gravy's labyrinth, he smudges you with sage first and strikes a tibetan singing bell for you, and then he sits quietly while you walk. when you reach the place where you began, he says 'welcome home.'
van morrison says it best for me today.
and when that foghorn blows
you know i will be coming home.
when that foghorn whistle blows
i gotta hear it
i don't have to fear it.
and i want to rock your gypsy soul
just like way back in the days of old
and together we will float
into the mystic.
too late to stop now.