Since I posted a piece last week entitled, “Feather on the Breath of God,” the spiritual practice of abandonment has dogged me down the labyrinthine ways of my consciousness, unrelenting in its insistence that I stop and listen. So here I am, living with the metaphors of god as the air we breathe or the feather on the air free-falling into the womb of abandonment.
I concede that much of my poetry comes from a place out of my control. Sometimes the words just tumble out and I catch my breath when I see what I have written. That’s when I know that a phrase bears more deep reflection and prayer because there’s a lesson in it for me, and perhaps for you. Often these phrases are currents of the Spirit wakening us to connections perched on the threshold of possibility.
The phrase, “womb of abandonment” haunts me this week. A womb is the liminal place of development. In it we can hunker down and pay attention to our growth. The womb protects us. But here’s the paradox: the spiritual practice of abandonment demands scarcity before abundance. We gain abundance by letting go. Why would someone choose to undertake the free-fall into this womb if it means letting go of attachments that keep us from experiencing the abundance of divine life? Because if god is the floating feather, we become divine in the process of falling.
I choose the free-fall because life in abundance is a life lived freely. Those rare moments of freedom from ego-clamoring are worth the agony of letting go. Like a free-fall jumper high on adrenaline, I am addicted to the adrenaline rush of grace every time I dare to jump into the womb of abandonment.