What are you?

Today we enter Tau­rus—
the sec­ond cham­ber of the astro­log­i­cal year.

Some­where in your chart it is always wait­ing,
and at this turn­ing of the sea­sons
it asks you to lis­ten
for the qui­et mes­sages held in Earth.

For thir­ty days Aries has lit your way—
a forge of pres­ence,
a flame that teach­es you to meet each moment
as though it were the only altar there is.

In that fire, life asks its first ques­tion—
sim­ple, fierce, and endless:

Who are you?

But Tau­rus draws you deep­er—
from the spark to the sub­stance,
from the name to the nature.

Now life asks not who you are,
but—

What are you?

What is the “what” of you—
the weave of strengths and sor­rows,
gifts and hungers,
pow­ers, pat­terns, pos­si­bil­i­ties—
the mak­ing of the being called you?

Sit with that ques­tion
even for a breath
and you will feel its depth.

For you are not a thing—
not an object among objects.

You are a liv­ing field,
a con­stel­la­tion of bod­ies and ener­gies,
a hier­ar­chy of Spir­it-Mat­ter
shim­mer­ing into form.

You are a dew­drop of the Divine
risen from the One—
bright with the whole sky.

From the cen­ter that is every­where,
whose cir­cum­fer­ence is nowhere,
you bring forth the vehi­cles of being—
forms with­in forms—
as you descend into the worlds of experience.

From Spirit’s high­est field you fall like light—
into mind, into mean­ing;
from mind into feel­ing;
from feel­ing into breath and blood;
until, at last,
you wear the dense bless­ing of a body
and call it “me.”

And know this:
each body is itself a world,
each world a choir of lives.

You are not an island-self.
You are a host of hosts—
a small uni­verse of Spirit–Life–Consciousness
breath­ing with­in the greater universe.

In Tau­rus, you cross a thresh­old—
from inward “I am”
to out­ward “I am this.”

You learn your­self through form:
through strength and skill,
through the slow wis­dom of the sens­es—
shape and col­or,
sound and scent,
the sweet grav­i­ty of Earth.

Here you remem­ber the won­der of being alive—
and the love of Life itself,
of which you are a pre­cious part.

The ques­tion remains:
what is the val­ue that is you?

Through youth and elder­hood
your pow­ers wax and wane—
the bright strength of ear­ly years
yield­ing, in time,
to the gifts of wis­dom and judgment.

Some days you feel lumi­nous and sure.
Some days you can­not find your worth.

So ask, beneath all mea­sures:
what is the foun­tain-source of val­ue—
the root beneath your ris­ing and falling?

As it was in the begin­ning,
so it will be in the end.

You are a jew­el of Spir­it,
a spark of the Divine.

And there is no mea­sure for what you are—
because the “what” of you
is the one liv­ing pow­er behind Creation:

Divine Uncon­di­tion­al Love.

And so is every­thing.
All of life.
All of Creation.

All of it is pre­cious.
All of it is here
to be loved.

You are here because of Love.

And you are here—simply—
to be that Love
for one anoth­er,
for this beau­ti­ful Earth,
and for the stars above you.

Remem­ber what you are.

Love one another.