Velvet Love
Texas Vipassana, 2009

Everyday, I watch her
I’m not allowed to watch anyone
So I watch her
In all her fierce beauty

Everyday, I pass her
Standing alone by the edge of the building
Tall on her green stalk
With thick purple rolled around her center

I sense her
I feel her
I see the potential in her
Yet I seldom pause to take her in for
more than a moment

Everyday, she appears closer to opening
Will she open while I’m here?
Will I meet her wild beauty?

Before dawn, I walk through roosters calling
I pause before her
Large dew drops glimmer on her purple petals
I bow before her beauty, her perfection, her innocence
This purple iris is about to open into her wholeness, her beauty
 
As I stand before her
I hear words from last night’s dharma talk about beauty in my head
“Beautiful is wholeness,” he says from the TV screen in his Indian-accented English
“Imagine I meet this beautiful girl
And I say, “oh how beautiful is her hair.”
“Oh how beautiful are her nails.”
“Oh how beautiful is her skin.”
I think of all her beauty

The next evening, she cooks me dinner
And I find a hair in my soup
"What is this disgusting thing?” I say as I pull out the hair from my soup
That hair from her head is no longer beautiful when it’s not part of the whole
The next day, I find a stack of her nail clippings on a table
“What are these disgusting things?” I say as I look at the nail fragments
Those nails from her hands are not beautiful when they are not part of the whole
The next day, I find some of her skin in a pile
“What is this disgusting thing?” I say…
Separated from the whole, each looses its beauty.”

Beauty is wholeness.  Beauty is wholeness.

I stand before wholeness in her velvet gown
I sit in silence for an hour in our dim indoor space
On break, I walk quickly to check on my newest love
Dew has evaporated and her petals have loosened their hold on the center
I could spend the day sitting watching an iris open
But that would be breaking the rules

And I’ve broken almost every one already
Although I’m trying so hard to respect the rules
I’m just not a rules girl
But I am trying, so I leave my love and return to the silent dim space to sit

On break, I walk quickly to check on her again
The petals are a touch more open and I see
a tiny glimpse of inner yellow fur
I celebrate her opening
Into the still morning sunshine
Return to the dim space
Float in my head

On break, I pass her again
One petal has dropped down to reveal
thick inner yellow fur

I’m so excited that I walk faster
not looking down at my feet
Where I normally look to not crush any of the large, slow beetles on the sidewalk
I hear the crunch before I feel it beneath my foot

Nooo, I moan
I have been trying to not kill any of the beetles all week
That was one of the rules I was sure I wouldn’t break: “don’t murder.”
Yet even that one, broken

I look down at the partly crushed black body
It’s dragging itself slowly
Do I step on it fully and guarantee its death but put it out of its suffering?
Or do I give it a chance to survive?
I choose to give it a chance
And ignore its suffering nearby as I gaze
again at my love

After lunch, the wind picks up
Iris has now opened fully
All of her petals reveal lusciousness within
Each piece is perfect, whole, beautiful
 
I leave her
I sit in silence in the dim space
Listening to the wind whip outside
To the world growl with thunder
To the rain tumble onto the windows and roof
I think about my beautiful love
Out there alone
In her beauty

I pass her many times
Each time her body is being whipped about by the wind
Each time her petals attempt this new dance
But it’s too rough
Too rough
Or is that only my impression?
Perhaps she loves the wildness of her entry into the world into winds and waters?

Time passes in its bent ways
At times it feels like a moment is endless
But then an hour falls away in an instant
I forget about my love
I spend time with other loves in my head
I spend time with myself in my head

In the evening, I stop before her in the rain
Her petals are torn in places
Her petals look worn
Her petals look like they have existed for years, not only a day
Yet her beauty feels stronger now
No longer innocent yet more whole

I love her more now
But leave her to sleep in my heated room, alone

In the morning, she is ancient
Winds and frost and rain had scratched at her all night
Large parts of her petals are now browned and rippled
Only slivers of the velvet purple remain
I stand before her wishing I could have done something
Yet just like with any other being
I can only take care of myself
And let those I love
Fight their own battles, dance their own dances
Even if in the end they loose that innocent perfect beauty
Each moment results in more wholeness

I leave her standing in her wilty strength
Taller than all the other irises that stand around her
They who have not begun to come out of their green protection
She led the way into life.

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