Once upon a time, there was a little girl whose hair had a little curl, and whose feet loved a little twirl. Spinning joyfully in sun sparkle splendor she brought into her heart and mind the fluttery whiteness of cloud and the whispery wonder of breeze. Sprawling on the grass she felt the earth spinning too, and it was good and right, to spin together with the ground and the sky.
Always seeking lightness and brightness to match the star shine in her imagination, she gazed through gauze window curtains, peeked through fire reflective maple leaves, and played piano music on the pond water which made ripples of delight for hours.
She had no idea that others did not synchronize their movement with the spinning planet around her. She did not realize that others did not dance with the breeze playing music with the oak leaves. She thought everyone knew about this type of love.
She was wrong.
After five decades mourning her loss of dance and her touching the moon beams, she keens a song of loss, howling quietly at the full moon. Then one day, her child joins her and they howl together, louder, at peace with expressing their heartache without words. Later day, a friend joins her and howls at the full moon, the white brightness casting artful shadows on her friend’s face, making new patterns of lace and loveliness there.
It was a miracle, a re-birth.
How many rainbow souls howl alone at the moon? Can we connect by riding the teasing happy wind? Can we grasp sunbeams breaking through cloud fluff and like a helium balloon lost from the grip of a child at a parade find one another in sparkies?
I am joyful, body singing lightness breath and companionship. The light shining through tree leaves is the same as the light shining through hearts, radiating from eyes, leaping galaxies from stars.
I have friends. This I know. This I trust.
Wiggle. Spin. Flap. Leap. Sing. Breathe in, out, close eyes and see the light is inside me. It’s been there all along.
Birthing children
Creating family
Destroys spontaneity
Which ironically is
Required
When one has children
Planning chaos
Chaotic planning
Spontaneous grocery shopping
Meals needing planning
What is next, next, next
Spontaneous nap
during
Planned television show
Planned basketball practice
Evolving spontaneous
Snowball fight
AH yes
Are there two of me
Inner prismatic light
Gentle wind-chiming music
Wafting inside
Real to me
Yet the Others
Perceive otherness
In me from me
Making me what
Who I am
Not
A robot, an Alien,
A calculating computer
Brilliant brain without
heart?
Singing I smile
Moving quick bouncing
Inside graceful dancing
The Others see me
Still
Frozen
Lost I am
Not
Can I meld outside
And inside?
Should I?
Maybe my colors and
Music are mine for
A Reason
Redeeming Grace
October 2, 2010
