The snow was still on the ground, icy in areas where the Sun's rays are dimmed by trees and thickets and dips in the still green landscape. Nature was alive with bird song. Geese called overhead pointing toward warmer weather. Fat robins perched on leafless branches. Cardinals and sparrows flitted in the underbrush, begging sunflowers seeds from my now empty hands.
The wind was only felt after I made the climb, overlooking the magic meadow, where Stags and Wolves and Angels have greeted me. Where I still see my daughter's golden hair camouflaged against flaxen stalks of wheat, her laughter echoing to me from another world. The Peregrine, pregnant with her young, flew low to greet me. Her call, bringing me back. Away from my grief.
Winged-clouds blew above me, stretching out beyond the Sun's reach. I stood and looked out over the tops of distant trees, breathing in relief. Peace. And small, carefully curated moments of joy. Not the same joy I felt in your arms...never like that. Perhaps, in days to come, I will feel it again. Before Death greets me one last time. Most humans only meet Death once. But I am not like most people, am I? Neither are you.
We come from the place where Angels are self-aware, where we can make a choice to return in wisdom to heal the world and ourselves. In another lifetime, her name was Ayaah. It was the word for the deadly but beautiful flower that grew wild in that vast empire. A place from intuitive memory. But I no longer rule anything but a kingdom of debt and sorrow. Will I ever be able to afford another chance, such as I am? A second dance???
These are the thoughts that pushed me off the cliff. My phone went flying far below me as my hands quickly found the prickly branches of a thorn bush along the side as I fell. It took me a few moments to realize that, if I let go, I would keep falling. Of course, I'd already fallen. Was it ice? Mud??? Neither, though both were now at my back.
My legs were helpless. My right arm, keeping us connected. In tact. The Sun came out from behind a cloud just then, shining in my eyes, and as my blood fed the prickly thorns their due, a man on a bicycle appeared out of nowhere on the isolated road above me. He happened to look down and did a double-take. It almost made me laugh, despite the precarity of my circumstance. You don't expect to see a god, or even a devil, hanging from a thorn bush on a Tuesday afternoon. You don't expect to see an Angel with outstretched wings either. Whatever he saw when he looked upon me, he ran over, pulled me up, retrieved my hiking poles, as well as my now muddy phone. And he did it all with a smile.
Abandoning his bike, my savior refused to let me walk alone the rest of the way. He looked me over and was amazed that my only sign of injury was the dirt on the back of my T-shirt (though I found mud in my bra later once I made it home). The wounds on my hands were all but gone. My savior thought it impossible, but I just smiled and said, "My outsides heal faster than my insides...comes with being immortal." This was accepted more easily than expected, though he had just witnessed a miracle. As did I.
His name was Sullivan. His family was from Cork. As we walked and talked, I told him about my Irish "Ma," also from Cork, who passed away on this very day, though clearly, she is still with me. We joked about drinking Irish whiskey and having better falls from the drink than the brink. When I got to my car, I thanked him, then, hugged him. He did the same:
"You just made my day. You gave me an opportunity to be a better man. Thank you for that...."
We said goodbye. And I drove home. Unable to do more than write this essay, my immortal heart and soul thank the Sullivans of this world. I am made to find you. I am made to find your opposites, too. When you touch me--whoever you are--you touch the power of Heaven. It is only what's inside you that turns that blessing into a curse. Who you really are comes forward. You can then choose a new Destiny. That's my super-power. Even now.
Today, Ayaah means bird of prey in my language, the language of the Angels. Deadly yet beautiful. Like the ancient flower, whose milk was used on the tips of arrows. Irony...it is somehow the one thing I never lose.
The Red Tail spread its wings wide as I gazed out the window, washing my hands of the mud and the thorns and the blood. It was my gift. For, I will get dirty for you. I will humble myself before you. I will give you power over me so you may prove your worth.
And, you will prove it. Believe in yourself as wholly as I believe in you. The only fairytales are coincidences. We make our own magic. Our own miracles.
Jesus had bare feet yet walked on water. Moses had a lisp but spoke for a nation. Buddha had wealth yet found Nirvana in nothing. And Mohammed created light in the darkest part of a cave. We live in a world of opposites. It allows good and evil to exist together inside each of us. Even the simplest, poorest among us have the power to create light in the darkness. Even those with damaged bodies can rise up in strength and lead a nation. And those who live without the most basic of comforts can know that within them, there is a god.
That is why I exist. To show you who you are. And, that you are better than you think.
See opportunity where most would see difficulty and you, too, will wash the dirt, mud and blood just as easily from your hands as I did mine. Help is always there when you need it. So am I....
#Falling
#1111
#TwinFlames
The wind was only felt after I made the climb, overlooking the magic meadow, where Stags and Wolves and Angels have greeted me. Where I still see my daughter's golden hair camouflaged against flaxen stalks of wheat, her laughter echoing to me from another world. The Peregrine, pregnant with her young, flew low to greet me. Her call, bringing me back. Away from my grief.
Winged-clouds blew above me, stretching out beyond the Sun's reach. I stood and looked out over the tops of distant trees, breathing in relief. Peace. And small, carefully curated moments of joy. Not the same joy I felt in your arms...never like that. Perhaps, in days to come, I will feel it again. Before Death greets me one last time. Most humans only meet Death once. But I am not like most people, am I? Neither are you.
We come from the place where Angels are self-aware, where we can make a choice to return in wisdom to heal the world and ourselves. In another lifetime, her name was Ayaah. It was the word for the deadly but beautiful flower that grew wild in that vast empire. A place from intuitive memory. But I no longer rule anything but a kingdom of debt and sorrow. Will I ever be able to afford another chance, such as I am? A second dance???
These are the thoughts that pushed me off the cliff. My phone went flying far below me as my hands quickly found the prickly branches of a thorn bush along the side as I fell. It took me a few moments to realize that, if I let go, I would keep falling. Of course, I'd already fallen. Was it ice? Mud??? Neither, though both were now at my back.
My legs were helpless. My right arm, keeping us connected. In tact. The Sun came out from behind a cloud just then, shining in my eyes, and as my blood fed the prickly thorns their due, a man on a bicycle appeared out of nowhere on the isolated road above me. He happened to look down and did a double-take. It almost made me laugh, despite the precarity of my circumstance. You don't expect to see a god, or even a devil, hanging from a thorn bush on a Tuesday afternoon. You don't expect to see an Angel with outstretched wings either. Whatever he saw when he looked upon me, he ran over, pulled me up, retrieved my hiking poles, as well as my now muddy phone. And he did it all with a smile.
Abandoning his bike, my savior refused to let me walk alone the rest of the way. He looked me over and was amazed that my only sign of injury was the dirt on the back of my T-shirt (though I found mud in my bra later once I made it home). The wounds on my hands were all but gone. My savior thought it impossible, but I just smiled and said, "My outsides heal faster than my insides...comes with being immortal." This was accepted more easily than expected, though he had just witnessed a miracle. As did I.
His name was Sullivan. His family was from Cork. As we walked and talked, I told him about my Irish "Ma," also from Cork, who passed away on this very day, though clearly, she is still with me. We joked about drinking Irish whiskey and having better falls from the drink than the brink. When I got to my car, I thanked him, then, hugged him. He did the same:
"You just made my day. You gave me an opportunity to be a better man. Thank you for that...."
We said goodbye. And I drove home. Unable to do more than write this essay, my immortal heart and soul thank the Sullivans of this world. I am made to find you. I am made to find your opposites, too. When you touch me--whoever you are--you touch the power of Heaven. It is only what's inside you that turns that blessing into a curse. Who you really are comes forward. You can then choose a new Destiny. That's my super-power. Even now.
Today, Ayaah means bird of prey in my language, the language of the Angels. Deadly yet beautiful. Like the ancient flower, whose milk was used on the tips of arrows. Irony...it is somehow the one thing I never lose.
The Red Tail spread its wings wide as I gazed out the window, washing my hands of the mud and the thorns and the blood. It was my gift. For, I will get dirty for you. I will humble myself before you. I will give you power over me so you may prove your worth.
And, you will prove it. Believe in yourself as wholly as I believe in you. The only fairytales are coincidences. We make our own magic. Our own miracles.
Jesus had bare feet yet walked on water. Moses had a lisp but spoke for a nation. Buddha had wealth yet found Nirvana in nothing. And Mohammed created light in the darkest part of a cave. We live in a world of opposites. It allows good and evil to exist together inside each of us. Even the simplest, poorest among us have the power to create light in the darkness. Even those with damaged bodies can rise up in strength and lead a nation. And those who live without the most basic of comforts can know that within them, there is a god.
That is why I exist. To show you who you are. And, that you are better than you think.
See opportunity where most would see difficulty and you, too, will wash the dirt, mud and blood just as easily from your hands as I did mine. Help is always there when you need it. So am I....
#Falling
#1111
#TwinFlames
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