I have learned,
My children’s cups are not beholden to me
They are, yes,
beholden unto them
Each inhabits the responsibility for filling
And my purpose, for now,
Is to guide them how
Whilst I re-frame, I learn
This cup, this other glorious cup,
That which is not personal
Yes, this cup
The one through which we cherish our earth,
This that we jointly are to hold
That is passed from generation to generation
I imagine, water brimming full inside
And ask myself this;
How do we carry from grandparent to father,
Mother to child, child to grandchild
Without leaking or losing it’s contents?
What can we bring to this cup
to facilitate conveyance with such consideration?
And should it spill, what grace can we manifest
to assist it’s contents full again?
How may I impart, what is my journey, my passage
to enable this?
What may I empty in me
to enable this?
I can race and succeed the cup
But with contents none
I can swig, drink, slurp, procrastinate
But with contents gone
How can I pass it to my children?
And how can I teach them to dutifully pass
This image I cannot remove from my mind
The still waters that sit
Within this sacred vessel
It is not mine
Yet I am, like you,
honoured to be a carrier
Neither I or you own,
But we are bound
To it’s urgent care and attendance
And I look to water bodies around,
And ponder the energy they convey, generate
As they wash, wane,
Without attachment, nor judgement
They are non
And Oh how I love non
The non that allows emptiness that at once allows us to fill
How can I bestow this onto my children?
What must I unlearn, let go, release, invite
So I can teach them to bequeath it to theirs?
How do we sustain this blessed transportation?
How do we make known, for we are blind to it’s losses?
And how may we share, without avarice,
the wonder and joy of it’s contents?
My only answer, on the path that I know, is to dig deep
Whilst I seek
To keep listening, to that which is not
To hear the weeping whispers of the past
To hold them in my mind and arms
And bid adieu
To let salt water fall
For holding tears in my heart
Makes me the person I am not
And this cascade of sorrow,
This be the grace
That permits emptiness to fill
Our eternal cup,
For it to resume it’s poise of effortless love and compassion
And return to wholeness. Yes!
Yes, in my internal environmental travels
As my children witness and learn
My care of it’s delivery
And their care,
and governance to hold
This and their own
Together, I hope,
We will weave new stories,
In the threads of our undoings,
A new carriage
Yes, our magnificent cup