Spring time in California reminds me of a favorite poem.
When I first heard this poem recited by Deepa Chopra in 1991 I was moved to the core. Feeling the Life Stream prompted the quest that led to Karate, Taichi, Chigong, Shiatsu, and finally to Aikido, Meditation and Jyotish (same thing, different levels). Feeling and sharing the Life Stream became my mission.
The Life Stream can seem to appear stronger in some places and at some times more than others. Like, for instance, a stint at Herakhan ashram in Uttara Pradesh where total focus on the Divine seemingly open the floodgates of it’s effulgence. Or in catastrophic times; like the 1987 San Fran earthquake unified Bay Area dwellers in the “Spirit of Love” (for about a week) or a leg breaking fall and being thrown into liminal time and space for about half a year.
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.