Tonight, I feel into the place of my homework:
To bring my discomfort, grief and sadness to the man in the flames. To be in the sensuality of the flames and let myself wretch out the trauma that has delivered me to this place.
I have felt for a long time something in my body that needed to be expelled. It manifests as dis-ease, a writhing discomfort that, if I stay with it, brings me to the wailing wall. The place where there is nothing but prayer-filled grief. It is a painful place to kneel and wretch. It has been painful to make the pilgrimage to this place, to bring my grainy eyes, callused soles, and my broken heart. Even as He is there, and His flames reach out to greet me, it is not enough to burn away my tears. I want to clutch my rib cage and tear it open, climb out of this body and step over it into the flames.
I see the flames of my own passion, my own desire, my wanting to turn this life over. To feel the relief of Knowing, the terror of not knowing but trusting anyway.