Our Larger Destiny

Legend has said that one day many centuries ago, Tara  was meditating and chanting her mantra in her Lotus Buddha Field, when some monks happened by. They felt her powerful vibrations and profound meditational energy, and they said, "Oh, Yogini  [female practitioner], you are such an excellent spiritual practitioner. In the future may you be born as a man and become a Buddha."

And Tara replied to those arrogant macho monks, "May I throughout all my lifetimes always take female form. Until all beings realize the nirvanic peace, bliss, and freedom of full enlightenment, 

may I always embody the sacred feminine and be a female Buddha."

Awakening the Buddha Within: Tibetan Wisdom for the Western World (p. 247),  by Lama Surya Das

This story catches my eye (and heart) quite fully right now as I was just reading a powerful poem by a woman writing about the sacred balance of ebb and flow of human live—some lives ending all too soon, and some lives beginning all too soon, yet each coming and going in just the perfect place of no-time.(The nuclear disaster in Chernobyl occurred in April of 1986.) 

The Years We Will Know Them

Soon I will know if I am pregnant.

I watch my blood, so willing

to fill the vial, and the tiny blue bruise

that instantly forms

where the needle entered.

In this waiting room I sit

with a Life magazine—

Victims of Chernobyl in bold

and photos of men without hair,

skin peeling as if they’d lain

too long in the sun.

Some glance hopefully at us, wide-eyed,

a part of History.

But how young—

they must have mothers

who’d want to hold such heads and weep

for the years they have known them,

the ones they will not.

Each morning nurses collect the hair

in great clumps from the pillows

till each bare scalp gives up

boyhood scars and birthmarks,

a shell bony and domed.

Uncovered, the nape of the neck

is a place a woman remembers

putting her lips to.

My name is called.

Soon I will know if the tender bone

of a skull is bedded

like a pearl in my womb.

—by Lauren Mesa

What strikes me as significant about this poem and the story of Tara, is the truth of how each of us is capable of touching life with such awareness that our very breath tells a story of our larger destiny.

Recently I was playing a game of dominoes with some friends. This was the third game over a few weeks with the same five players. It became obvious one player was playing AGAINST me even though I was not winning. I was aware that did not feel good. After shifting into a more neutral observer, as she was even saying things about the focus of blocking me, I mentioned what I saw that was happening: "You are playing against me as though i was winning."

Her reply was, "It feels like you are."

At the moment I was able to acknowledge I was experiencing my own energy from the previous two games.... I offered up a silent prayer for this awareness and wrapped my heart in forgiveness as I remembered my higher purpose was to enjoy the game.

I am witnessing one dear friend support her beloved husband as he navigates a diagnosis of Alzheimer's. She sees the challenges as opportunities for love and respect and tenderness and patience for both of them. 

I am also watching another dear friend (long since grandmother age) raise a baby. She finds delight in each busy moment rather than feeling overwhelmed by the responsibilities. 

I also hold that space for Carol after the transition of her beloved daughter, Lizzie.

No matter what we do for a living, the purpose of our lives is to use our heads, hands, and hearts to help others. Thank you, blessed friends, for doing that day after day....

Daffodils in bloom: Walking the labyrinth at Still Waters with Carol.