aut viam inventam aut faciam
“and yet you slept with me, even without knowing. ”
Four Parts - Brahma, Tarot, Directions.
Dear Anias,
Purple beet hummus and sourdough bread with oil, tomatoes, and cucumber; this is how I broke my fast yesterday. I saved the two dates for dessert with almond butter and dark chocolate with sea salt. The creamy chocolate smudged my fingers before the piece got to my mouth.
I dreamt about a tree house made of dark wood and a woman in a long black dress who told me I could have only a few guests during my stay. I bathed in the washroom with a clawfoot tub and a gold facet. My hair was long and dark in the mirror. I looked younger than I am.
Black Egg. Firefly. Bee. Whale.
Those are the four tarot cards I drew yesterday between writing snippets of poetry. I am looking forward to having two months of time off work.
*
I feel the thirst for passion in my body as a plant waits for water in the desert. Parched, perhaps, though not counting on the rain. There is an understanding of timing. The things I crave will not appear to me when I want them. The need will be quenched, eventually.
Do butterflies feel when it's time to break free and be born?
Is birth the release or the death?
A stir penetrates my nervous system and tells the synapses to move. It is an intuitive sensation and not a mental fluctuation. Is it the intention that drives me forward? Or something else?
What would that be, something else if not me? Who else is here with me in these long, dark hours when sleep will not come?
I was awake past midnight and dreams kept my being busy. I had been throwing up under a tree, my hands holding tight to its roots. My palms were filthy; my nails were full of dirt. I heaved on my knees until green goo poured out onto the earth and I woke up screaming. I shuddered in bed and fell onto the floor. Rolling sideways, I pressed myself up to my shins and set my palms on the flat floorboards. My palms were damp and cold. I cried out and silence answered.
Fear filled my body. Someone was in the space with me, a softness standing on my left side. It moved a little and lingered as I stood and slithered back into bed. I drew my knees to my chest and curled into the fetal position. The thing stayed with me until I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When I woke, birds chattered and the church bells rang wide and clear in the blue sky.
I have moved my purging to my dreams.
*
Black Egg.
I asked about Romance and received a card for Truth. Remember how I said I preferred the dark purple fish pulsing beneath the surface? When the fountain is off, the black ones appear. Sliding alongside the white and red koi who flip their fins at the ducks.
This is the Black Egg: you can feel it though it is not always easy to see. You have to look for a long time. Cultivate patience. Test the will to withstand. Voice, vision, and inner intent manifest into the physical realm. I don't draw the fish up and out from the water. I let them glide and reveal themselves when the pond is quiet. They don't like the bustle. I can feel it. Fifth chakra; Vishuddha. Take Her hand and wait for her. The kids were running along the pavement, Code hanging back. Where are we going? Walk beside me. I had to place myself in between so I could see Frankie skipping up ahead. I will always take your hand. We will lead each other to the forest. To the park. To the koi pond. I must treat myself with the same tenderness. Wait. Be patient. You don't have to sit still to hear it. Wait for the pull and move into it.
Bee.
Resourceful and genuine. Pursuer of progress. Supports the community; nourishes the whole. Integral and integrated. Persistent. Would you say a bee is passionate? Protective of the source and yet will not sting unless it is the last option. I used to like to watch the bees roam the lavender bushes. Dragging their feet through the pollen. Lumbering slowly. Laboring under the sun. Daffodils and mustard seed. I am your sister first; I will not save you. My writing is a trek through the past to paint the portrait I'd wanted to receive. What window do you look through when you wake up when the curtains are still tightly drawn and the room is dark? Sunlight spills when we rip off the coverlets and it's blinding. I prefer to open my eyes in the dark.
Firefly.
Effervescent and fleeting. Wavering ambition and the white flag scented by Marrakesh musk. I'm dancing my bare feet across the broken tiles. Stones are stuck between my toes. I wave my hands like a wand, incantations; I move therefore I am. Do plants feel this way too, when the wind blows? When the rain bellow? In the storm, I feel the most seen; flashes of light that burst like fireworks in my body. Elusive as water. Evaporation. I poured tea into a glass decanter just to watch the steam rise. I could spend a day like this, drunk on condensation. Moonlight. Shivers. Inspired and fantastic. The firefly is fatal. A bug blessed by beams that tease the shadows.
Whale.
I used to dream about a great whale named the Star of Wonder. Some say that your True North should never move. I disagree. The Star of Wonder must roam the world to taste all its textures. It travels deep and wide, singing in a rhythm I feel through my palms when I push them on the floor. Plank pose. Down dog. The pose for the child. I set my hands down to tempt the wonder from the earth. It is hard beneath me and imperceptibly fluid. The city of nine gates opens and closes the channels with drawstrings. I call it the inhale and exhale. When the gates are closed, the Star of Wonder sleeps. Who decides when they will open? I seek ancient wisdom that is rarely spoken. Peace be with you, I whisper to the ground. The Star of Wonder hears me, even if it's on the other side of the world. The web stretches and shudders. Do you hear me?
**
I cannot always answer you when you call. I am here for you, even when you cannot see me. My hand is sweaty from holding on to you so tightly; when I let go, there will be hot air in my palm. In my dream, there was a white rug where I knelt and he waved a scarf from the couch where there was a football game on a small television. It was dark outside and lamps lit the backyard. It was all men and me on my knees with my hands full of fur. If I press hard enough, will the ground open and swallow me?
Photo source.
