Cessation

I live in the desert in New Mexico. One expects heat but there is no way to really prepare.

Today it reached 100 degrees by 10 in the morning. This does not bode well for the rest of the day and I can feel the onset of a weighted sluggishness. Any motivation slips away and the day will go by in a haze.

It is surreal. Giant thunder clouds grow each afternoon over the mountains that edge the basin. Their emergence and growing forms create motion in what feels like a state of suspended animation. They tease the possibility of merciful monsoon rains.. It is nature’s promise of hope for deliverance and one that draws my attention. It most often is an illusion with no resulting relief. In this deception there is only now.

Time passes in slow motion. I force myself to drink water as even that takes from my dwindling reserve of energy. Days pass, one like another. The garden is scorching or attending to survival dormancy. I am becoming dormant as well… sleepy days and exhausted nights.

In a strange way it is a primitive experience of survival that heals years of suffering for me. One can carry little thought when the effort to manage respiration and motion takes everything. There is no room for fear or sadness as the mind is in suspension. Dreams, if any, at night are simple.

My old bones know life is shortening and this environ is close to my truth.

Querencia means home ground. This desert is my safe space and a mirror of my time. Suspension is a friend. It is the desert of kairos. I have found my place for dying. Now I am gifted with practice.