Will Anyone Speak My Name? (Meditation)

I am not yet ready to give it up. Inside, some embers still glow in spite of the years with little fuel to feed them. They wait there, under the ash of time spent making a living, raising sons, serving a family.

I don't know if there is enough heat to light a flame that will answer the questions that still linger in the heart of an old man. I know that I have not done it yet, have not fulfilled the destiny of my soul. I came into this life to write a truth that would linger after I am gone, would speak to someone enough that he or she would speak my name.

I write this to testify that I know, and that I will hold the vision as opportunity to fulfill this vision presents itself. I sign a blood pact to listen, to record, to make it my reason for drawing breath.

Today I have work to do, classes to teach, meetings to attend. I have commitments I have made, and I will fulfill them. But when they are done, I will sit and wait, and listen.

Like fish in a sea of mind, the images will come, if they are moved by the call.

The spirit world waits, I believe, for someone to listen, to open, to receive.

It will not be the name that is important, but the surrender to the truth and the work to give it form, to share it, whether that be words on a page, image on canvas, of sound made music. The name is an invocation to the conduit, the medium, the instrument of expression. The name honors the ones who did the work, who stepped beyond themselves and into something bigger, something enduring, something ineffable.

If I can hone my senses and bring the words to page, I will have done my work.

Then someone might hear, as I have heard others: Robert, Richard, Terry, Rumi, Walt, Denise, and many more. I speak their names to remember.