Moss and saplings cover and intrude under a canopy of blue light. Uncomfortable frustrating experiences creating a space of knowing, a kind of wisdom. Wisdom based on fear, making you mindless and almost superstitious.
The ugly wisdom.
The kind that compels you to park in the same area, sit in the same area and walk the same trails because they work, they are familiar. The burl, the reaction, that brings you to respond with a quick no so that you don’t say yes.
The ugly wisdom
Soon comes a gentle breeze expelling last nights rain off your leaves. Soon comes light and with it change.
Samantha was very popular. It seemed she had a new date every Saturday night. She knew that if she sucked in her stomach and contorted her body in just the right way her email would be flooded with likes from the dating site she used.
Dale took this shot. Up until today she wondered how Sam managed to find so many available men. Now it was obvious. Dale was quite attractive but always the person behind the camera. She had an eye for light and balance, and enjoyed the way her photos came out. She’ll never bend or shape herself into what someone might want and because of that she didn’t date much, which was ok because she didn’t want a lot of dates. She wanted just one date.
In the damp humid air fungus emerges from the forest floor, ascending, growing tags like shells. Each one a moment when you allowed yourself to accept limited love and to be less than who you really are because it was not enough or it was too much.
Sean just doesn’t understand why he never gets a second or a third date. He goes to the gym at least 5 times a week, dresses in complimentary colors, and remembers to listen intently. Sometimes he actually holds his breath when others are talking.
He read somewhere that in order to seem desirable he had to stand out which to him seems ridiculous because it’s so natural to blend in. Maybe he’ll work on his voice next.
When you choose to love for who they are. When the parts of them that are not pretty, but hardened and stubborn and want to reach up to the light or down into the earth, but still want growth, life. When full acceptance of their joyous passions and their tortured wounds are met with your mindful embrace.
If I can’t fly then I want to be a tree, strong and resilient, whose roots form webs and networks with it’s tribe, always an exhale, always a balance a compliment.
Always alive even when life steps in with heavy rains and wind, when my branches break or worms make bags and pockets and eat my leaves. Even when squirrels make nests, ugh those squirrels. Even when the woodpeckers dig and dig and find those bugs.
I still exhale. Even when a person comes and takes my bark, my skin. Even when I’m broken or cut down.
Still then I have my tribe, my network, my web. And I exhale.
“From her heart grows a tree” whose bark has peeled and chipped, now leaving exposed wood growing moss and green creatures fertile with new life to pass. She is solid below the surface, and confident the new chapter will take root.
Thank you Melanie. See her post here. I hope I did this right! 🙂
Edward felt that all those years of practice was beginning to pay off. He’d actually landed a spot in the symphony! The only problem was that he let him self go over that past year and now his waistband was just a bit too tight. The other flutists are taking bets to see how long it will take before he pops a blood vessel in his eye from blowing a bit too hard.
Layer peels away, holding the imprint of your life. It twists until it shapes and forms a roll that takes itself away. Your outer layer removed, reveals, and inside you see the source of the imprint. You see the life you’ve had, your experiences like photos on a board. All of those moments down to just photos on a board, lines on bark, and to your surprise those lines are embedded amongst a universe of stars and galaxies. You are the very fabric of creation, the moss, the lichen, the bark.
Your roots reach into the dust of another’s life that once was long before you, the connection deep and lasting. Your lines to be dust for another life yet to come.
Paul was always in the back row of the choir not just because he was one of the tallest but because he was one of the loudest and that’s not necessarily a good thing. He had a unique talent for always harmonizing in the correct key and still keep gum in his mouth.