There you lay upon the carpet, once more. I say well hello, friend. How exactly did you get here again?
Last night when I picked you up, you squealed at me in a high-pitched frequency. “Muuu,” it sounded like you said.
I’d never heard a banana slug before, nor had I ever imagined they made sounds really.
You caught me by surprise, and so we converse. “What is it you wish to share?” I inquire.
Your feelers poking in and out of your body. As if looking for the waves of my voice. You rise from the magazine like a cobra, stretching tall. So tiny and barely noticed; and yet magnetically we connect.
Now here you are moving across the floor like a miniature tongue. Behind you a trail of sparkling shine.
With a flashlight I follow your path. Weaving and circling about. Until I find the hole underneath the door. Your entrance. A large glistening puddle, the energy it must have taken to cross the threshold.
Yellow and patterned; looking as if bark, able to blend like a leaf.
A representative of divinity. Defying all logic, as you wiggle through the mud sustaining no debris, by way of your invisible slippery sheen. Slowly you travel unfathomable distances.
This time I hear you, and I understand what you mean. We too can be like hir banana slug: divinely moving through unfavorable circumstances across the threshold of our dreams. Battered by the world, but somehow emerging silken in our ability to shed. Finding softness against hardship.
I close my eyes in meditation. This is where I begin again. Watching the oxygen flow inward. As it expands in all directions. It slows down, as time begins to let go of the body. Refreshing the soul like a deep dip into a cold spring. Sitting within the expansion of consciousness.
The burdens begin to roll away. Traveling back into the earth. Neutralizing and giving birth to new life. Always recycled, never destroyed.
Let it go in peace.
I stand in the center of the heart, holding sage. Cleansing the soul. The screaming hips lull to silence. There is no discontent or discord.
A crystal in the left hand is taken wide, circling back to the heart; passing into the right hand, and circling again to the threshold, the center of infinity.
A softness falls upon the moment. We are love.
Hir banana slug, we are always one. Living in life’s connection.
***
Lilac Laced Love 