Woke up to start writing…
Last Thursday the words just started pouring out onto the page…
Listen said the wind, gently playing in my ear
Softly, quietly, to the words that venture near
Feel the darkness calling, beckoning your name
Seeking now to tell you, there is nothing to this shame
Find the inner knowing, hidden buried much too deep
All those very sacred wishes, are still here for you to reap
Listen to it whisper, patterns of remembrance on your skin dear
Gently, stirring and arousing things you were taught and learned to fear
Silently you’ve been seeking, a way out of all this pain
Asking, working, breathing, any and every way to fully live again
Trust these feelings, thoughts, and whisperings within you still alive
More than mere imaginings, they are the real you that you hide
No more pretending, treading gently, heeding traditions from the past
Let the new in, take it slowly, allow each moment fully now to last.
Slept for 6 more hours on and off in the middle of the day. To be awoken from a dream that was so vivid, all physical sensations present except the smell of my surroundings:
I was wandering through some market place, naked, when I came upon this art gallery displaying kids pencil drawings on large old brown paper bags. All of the sacks had various 1st and 2nd grade type art of the dreams of each child of who they wished to become or do when they grow up.
All of the various bags were hung up with old wooden clothes pins, on rainbow primary colors yarn crisscrossing in each room through this one entire building in this old stucco market square.
When I noticed the drawings were for sale to raise money, and I began to realize the artists were children from the local school I drive for. So I began searching through the drawings looking for my friend’s daughter’s name. When an assistant to the gallery came up to help me and after we could not find the particular girl’s work, we called her mother, asking her to help us come up and search for it.
She arrived moments later and the first thing she spied was the light, lilac, giant stranded wool sweater I was carrying draped across my arm. Commenting on how much she loved the pattern of the knitters’ work, when across her shoulder I saw the man whom when we were teesn I adored, but had been banned from dating, going into one of the other rooms. She caught my sudden movement as I stopped to follow after him with my gaze. When she prodded me to go get dressed while she would tell him I was there. She then pushed me into the adjoining room to slip on the long oversized, rough textured body sweater. As I finish pulling the sweater on I could see him across the parking lot, looking tall, tired, and older, smoking a cigarette dressed in a light tan caftan shirt, dark charcoal grey business type trousers.
A meeting was set up for later in the day at some college where he was taking drafting courses. I arrived to go into the room just to left of his classroom. I watched as he came in to the room I was standing in the dark of the farthest corner of. Observing as he came in and began this religious ceremony that reminded me of the ceremonies of one who studies the religion of worshipping Allah with prayer before a small alter always toward the western sky. In my mind I was comparing how much each of us had changed from the loving constraints of our well-meaning parents as to what religion was best for us.
I waited till his ritual was over before I went up to him, touched his shoulder so that he would know I was there. As he turned to me, I saw this deep, tired expression on his face like carrying the world of expectation of what it was I probably wanted now. While in the background played Chistina Perri’s “A Thousand Years” as I began to lead him over to the prayer mats on the ground next to the sacred pool.
Assuming a crossed legged position, I beckoned him to join me and we watched as many different videos played in small floating colorful square framed holograms of singular flowers, displayed with each playing a different healing melody around the edges of the pool. I could feel the sense of ease as with each different tune, some old memory of pain floated up from within and was released.
After all of this sense of past struggle left my body. I reached for his hand and told him thank you… I finally understood. He looked at me with relief and release spilling down his face, to then ask me if this was truly all I had asked to meet him for. I said yes and wished him the peace and love I now felt coursing through every fiber of my being… Awakening to an immense sense of change deep within, followed by the incessant need to write it all down.