The rain winds down the windows. The clouds hang muggy and gray. I am grateful, because it washes me away. Clearing all the sounds of repetition that have been triggering my mind, to dance off on worry, to tangle in a furry upon miseries, like webs. Caught and glued with fear.
Nothing seems like what was anticipated when we laid in our beds at 3. The world seems more polluted now, dreams seem less likely to be real. Expectations begin to naw at what we’d foreseen as true. Distracted by conflict ancient and new. The revolving door of who we are. A menagerie of experience. Yet are we experiencing at all?
Do you see the way the liquid morphs a hard granite rock so delicately into silk, as it rushes magnificently powerful and magnetically graceful over the edge of the cliff.
Or does it miss your glance, as you run through with your phone plastered to your hand, filtering you between the world. Catching glimpses of beauty. Pressured by preservation and broadcasting of information. Curating the history of self.
Are we really alone? Or have you been hacked? And somewhere they’re watching you now. Checking in to see if your behaving unusually, or quite profound, or are in fact naked.
Is the general public numb on vice. Turned up too hot to see or feel, burnt and pushed. Triggering dominos. Out of curiosity perhaps, with no way to refill. The eyelids feel like dumbbells. Dropping to my cheeks. The pitch darkness makes me slightly uncomfortable. My throat burns as if there’s something I need to speak.
Actions, lists, memories, numbers, dates, people, objects, dreams, needs.
The third eye reopens like a black hole, and I melt deep within. Tumbling through enchanted colors. It rises back up, the beating pulsates and magnifies from center. My heart, pumping life force. Through my veins out into my muscles. All releases pressure. An exhale, and the thought that anything can change.
I bow to the cauldron of alchemy. Where all the feels become crystallized wisdom. The place to begin again. Where I am rhythmically hardwired to inception. The magnetic force which I have grown from. Roots feeling through the soil towards the heart of the earth.
I dream to crawl upon her, roll in her grasses, and swim naked in her rivers; pulsating and alive, mesmerized by the potential of her greens and blues. Heightened by her purples, always pausing in her breeze, open to digest her dance. The rise and fall of the moon.
The colors changing vibrantly from absence to fully saturated with light. I tremor with force grasping the power of life’s brilliance and might. Unfathomable in many sorts.
The leaves seem more dense this year, growing large like elephant ears. Now they curl in crispy golden, orange, and fire reds. Softly turning in the wind, falling to the ground. As the wild Pacific NW churns darker, beckoning the king tides to commence.
The kings are the highest of the tides, the strongest, and deepest swelling; rising when the nights are their longest, and the moon holds the stage shining in all her glory.
We pray for the king tides to usher in the wet season. May we be abundantly drenched. The rains bring destruction, mudslides washing away chunks of mountains, tree trunks, dead branches, and roads traveled roll out into the ocean. Soaking and floating along, cleansing and purging previous existence.
The tides will bring what remains upon the shore. Where old worn out branches will become anchors to new and curious innovations. Revealing a forest of birth from what’s been let go. Like the cycle of our cells.
Dividing, multiplying, destroying, replacing. It spirals right along. Constructing itself out of stardust. We are brilliant nothings. The shepherds of space. Bound by time, uncomfortable by non existence. I try to look within.
First by looking out upon a wonder until it dissolves, and then I dissolve apart until I am deep dark space. I notice the way space feels. Peaceful, evolving, empty, comfortable, flowing, calm and orderly, yet completely undefined.
I look at what is looking. For a flash I see that which is consciousness; rhythmic, vibrating, divinely present. An invisible force, magnetic in nature. I hope it’s invincible, and when I leave the earth I float out through space still a magnet to dreams. Like the force of the moon tugging the ocean to surge.
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Originally published in Juste Milieu Issue 3
Lilac Laced Love 