The door opened
It was spacious and bright The cacophony of bright fabricated colors shone through in the shape of a cross The curves of the walls softened my gaze Without genuflecting I slipped in and landed on the smooth surface of the sacrificed tree Almost as if entering an altered realm I melted down and landed in a cloud of “yes” “welcome” “enough-ness” “stillness” Blankets of rippled energy massaged my shoulders and seeped into my chest The awareness of the instantaneous transformation jolted me momentarily but then the shock dissolved and I was left with only presence I breathed it in wondering what “it” was On the deep and intentional exhale a tingle of acceptance tickled the tip of my nose and sat waiting for the next invigorating breath The next inhale began its journey from the tip of my nose inward The playful sensation came back to life and rose up into my head and pushed down into my chest It danced around Its vibration teased out a single teardrop that departed my left outer eyelid, which was now shut Reverberating in and out and through all of me Gushes of generations who came before me awoke I carried them inside and they seemed to greet the generations of those already in the space – who had called this home who had hunted this land who had nursed their young here who had been pushed off this land who had done the pushing off All seemed to come together in the space to join with me And in this sacred moment The hollow space in a straw of someone sipping the last drops of their drink echoed Slurps shifted my awareness back to the little nondenominational church in La Villita On any other day the loud irreverent noise would be jolting and irritating Another wet, airy gulp tested the calm silence I smiled The blanket of sacred humanity still lay on my shoulders and kept me warm I made sure to dwell in it for a morsel longer And when it felt like it had been long enough I stood up and with more space between each molecule of my being I entered back into the sunshine beating down on adobe buildings and sacred souls in the streets Both living and deceased
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AuthorSome times I write. Even less than "some" times I share what I write. For those moments that I write and want to share I have done so here. Archives
December 2017
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