Lilac Laced Love

I can’t find my clothes, no matter how deep I dig into my overstuffed bag. I sit backstage with nothing to wear. In my Sunday whites, from camp when I was a girl; white shorts and a white polo tee, with a blue bandana tied around my neck. Maddening, this uniform, which has risen from the past. Stress mounts upon my shoulders, as the first notes ring out. The show starts. “Oh no!” The curse words sting like a scorpions tail. I rush to get out; yet the deeper I dig, I am unable to find what it is I know I need.

There is a whisky bottle half the size of my body that lay’s on the bed, inviting me to open it and make a ginger drink instead. Looking at it makes me feel sick to my stomach. The room is dark, I squint harder to try to make sense from the contents within. But I can barely see, everything is blurred and I am anxious. I scream at the top of my lungs, but the show is over.

A card appears in my hands. A picture of a dolphin, jumping from the deep blue ocean. “Look this up,” I think to myself. “When you awake, look this up.” Then my eyes open to the light of day. Everything before disappears into the clouds. What did that dream even mean? It’s memory begins to evade me.

***

I string beads in the early afternoon, preparing new items for my shop. The phone rings. It’s my father wanting to talk about his new boat.

“Look it up, look it up!” He tells me, and so I do.

“Nice,” I say, “it looks fun. You’ll get to know the boating community secrets, like where the best swimming holes exist.” I wonder when I will see him again.

“Oh yeah?” He snickers.

“Yeah, Paps used to take me out looking for Dolphins; and whenever I go to Orange Beach with Hala, we live on boats. Being on the water makes me feel so alive.”  I say.

“Cool,” he says getting shorter. I know he doesn’t like to talk about Paps or Orange Beach.

I think about hanging my hand over the side, and slapping it against the boat. This is how you attract the Dolphins. The splash of waves salting my skin, the scorch of the sun melting my muscles. My romance with mother ocean goes far from her shores and swimming in the breaks of her swells.

A baby dolphin breaches the surface, fully into a flip; she’s playful, agile, and so tiny. Watching her ignites my imagination. There is nothing like sitting in the midst of the sea, rocking peacefully at ease. The cleansing sounds of water lapping. Atop a completely unseen world, wondering of a life so different.

I know my father knows of my water baby blood. He himself introduced me to the ritual of beach worship, and over saw my first trips into tropical reefs. But I wonder if he knows I love the ocean, or that I feel so at home in her waves.

***

Soon after I hang up with my farther, the phone rings again. It’s my mother calling. They seem to have divorced parent telepathy; and are always calling if I am on the line with the other. My mom is riding around in the car with our family dog.

“Tell Jack hi!” She answers.

“Hi Jack,” I say, “Is he listening?”

“Jack, do you recognize Taylor’s voice?” Mom asks. “We were calling to tell you  that I bought the same water bottle as you–the manna.”

“The what?” I ask.

“The manna,” she says.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, manna?” I say.

“It has a sticker on it which says ‘manna,'” mom says.

“Different water bottle, but I am sure it’s just the same. How are you?” I ask.

“Good, busy, tired, riding around in the car with Jack to Dogaroo. We’ve gotta go pick up his dog food.”

“Dogaroo?” I ask, “like Bonnaroo, for dogs?” This is seriously.

“I guess,” she says, “at least he gets a treat. He loves to go for the treats.”

***

Jack is 16 and the cutest old man you’ve ever met. He sits in the deepest part of my heart like a Buddha. I prayed for years he’d come to me, asked Santa, the tooth fairy, my mother, a shooting star. One Christmas I got a bar of soap which contained a dog figurine that looked exactly like him. I declared I’d free him from the soap and he’d manifest in the physical world. Every time I bathed I imagined the soap disappearing, and Jackson appearing grown and alive.

We’d play like Wishbone, the dog who travels through time to tell history stories. We’d snuggle, and hang, and do absolutely everything together. He would become my best friend, and teach me that communication goes far beyond words and actions. He came into my life during the 8th grade, when all my friends stopped speaking to me. I sat depressed in my desk. Wondering why I had come to school if I was smart enough to learn from books, especially if the place had to be so miserable. Finally one day, Anna broke down and told me.

“Everyone’s joined, nobody is allowed to speak to you, it’s the main rule. Veronica and Blane, they started it. We meet on the playground for updates on how we feel about you, like why your annoying or stupid, or if we saw you cry at lunch. We talk about how we’re not sitting near you at lunch tomorrow, or talking to you, or how many different colors Veronica has secretly sharpied in your hair during history class. It’s called the ‘We Hate Taylor Club'”

The bombshell exploded in my heart, and began to erupt from there. I’d felt it for so long, but now I knew there had been a conspiracy plot to terrorize me; and it felt like death. “But Why?”

“I dunno.”

I laid awake most nights crying, “why?”

***

Jackson became my medicine. One day he arrived with a big red bow atop his head. Dad dropped us off at home, and we ran in to discover our new puppy. Screaming with delight, squealing with love, overflowing with life. An answered prayer, a powerful example of manifestation at work, and proof that maybe magic really did exist. At least enough to create the drive in my mother’s heart. She brought him home from a horse show. A barn pup, born in the hay.

He loved me unconditionally from the start, and instantly we became best friends. We’d stomp through the woods, hop through the creeks, build forts, watch bunnies, pick berries, pull onions, climb trees, collect roses, chase birds, hide in bushes, read stories, and make movies. He became my hero, my guardian angel.

The one who lays with me when the tears are flowing. He’s seen me through the darkest moments of my life. Never ceasing to give the purest of loves, without an ounce of judgement. His hugs, the most genuine, as he pushes his third eye into my heart. He closes his eyes, and I feel his love filling me up. A pulsating example of life force.

Jack’s not doing so good these days. Our hearts are pulling at their strings, as we watch him slowly decline. Nobody is ready to say goodbye. How can we exist without the love of this most magical being, who openly gives his affection to all he meets. I can barely talk about it, because I can’t imagine living without him. Even when across the country, I feel the constant pull of his spirit.

***

In the light of the waxing crescent, my weird dream rises back to my consciousness. “Dolphin, look it up.” A flash from the realm of sleep. I rise to collect my animal cards. I pull the dolphin from the deck, just as my dream the night before. I open the medicine book, and flip to the dolphin.

Manna. The life force found in our breath. The source of all existence.  Present in every atom. Exchanging through every breath, between every creature and plant; recycled from the past to support the present. The dolphin representing this dance of life force. With every breath we become closer to another. Feeling the electromagnetic pulse of our hearts rhythmically sync together.

We can breathe with a frog, a bat, a raccoon, a blue Herron, a weeping willow, a flower growing out of a crack in the street, a raven, a starfish, the ocean, the crackling pop of a fire, a refreshing breeze. We can breathe with a dance, a bow, a seat, a prayer. We can stand like a mountain and breathe with our feet.

We can breathe with grandmother moon, we can breathe into our roots. We can open up new spaces to fill, by breathing into our hearts.

***

The dolphin also represents dream time. As manna, life force, breaks from the dimensions of physical existence. Dolphin was given the gift of communication, from the great star nation. Paying attention to the pattern and rhythm of all sound waves. “Be a link to some solution for the children of earth.” The dolphin whispers into my ear.

I close my eyes. Imagining that I am walking upon a sugary white beach by the most vibrant aqua ocean. Her warmth is inviting and revitalizing. “Come for a swim,” she calls to me. Her sweet salt cleansing the surface. I submerge. Swimming slowly out deeper, until I begin to float. To cleanse in rebirth. A rainbow stretches across the sky. As rain clouds float past the sun; which still shines brightly, igniting the ocean in transparent turquoise light. The calm lapping lulls me to peace. The salt drains away the tension of energies crossed, and exchanged.

A pod of dolphin surface, playfully jumping from the crystal clear waters. Diving through the air for a breath, then plunging deeper into the dense formless liquid wonder. Suspended from gravity, surrounded by displacing weightless mass. Free to move, and free to explore. The Dolphins rise and fall joyfully. They jump with intention. Flipping, clicking, passionately living. I drop beneath the surface. Watching them from underwater. A bubble trail rises from my nostrils, as I exhale. It catches the attention of a young beauty.

The dolphin looks at me, as if smiling. She swims to investigate my energy. My heart flutters nervously. I’ve always been curious to meet one. Closer and closer, she comes. I pop up for a breath, as I can’t hold myself empty any longer. She rises to meet me. I gasp and giggle. “Hello,” I squeal with an eek. She reaches her nose out to touch me, and I reach my hand to meet her half way. She presses her third eye into my palm, just as Jack does to my heart. Our energies pulsate together. We breathe this breath in communion.

The dolphin invites me for a swim. Placing her fin upon my palm. I hold it gentle and take a big gulp of air. She flies under the surface, water rushing past us like a torpedo. Into the depth we go. I imagine that perhaps I was a mermaid in some life past. She brings me back to the surface for another sip of air. Our energies feeling as if we’re long-lost soul mates.

Just as she’s come, she swims rhythmically back to her pod. Our interaction feeling as though a dream I wish to hold onto in the present. Each breathe is a gift. Containing the essence of all. I float closely to shore and then melt into the sand. The sun bathing my body in bliss. A deep surrender. Letting go of everything, trusting in the flow of manna.

My dream flashes back where I see myself writing this now. “The answer,” whispers an angel. Full circles, do not surprise me; I revel in their redemption. I give thanks that I am open to listen.

***