I retype this first sentence several times before opting for the immediacy of my experiencing. These last months are an infinite death process, peristaltic in nature. Just as I squeeze through one rebirth canal, I am born into another, dying simultaneously. If the heart is the sun inside the body, then mine is overshadowed by clouds of grief and a head tipped in collapse. I identify with shadow, it's dimension a playground for a lonely child who found solace in the whispers of the invisible realms. Yet with a collapsed embodiment, the neck loses curiosity and I have found myself hiding away, creating a distance from my own radiance and giving myself a hard time for it. I shy away, resisting my creative pursuits. I avoid writing in my dream journal, I make excuses not to draw and move and I struggle to focus enough to create dreamscapes. For two weeks, I write on a piece of paper 'be open to an idea for your diary'...
I look in the mirror for answers and all I see is a stranger's face reflecting back at me. I paint that face daily, my fingers barely recognising the skin it takes time to conceal. I begin to notice I am drifting through a dream-like haze where nothing seems real, especially me. My vibrant and colourful wardrobe feels alien and I can't imagine myself wearing those dear favourites any more. Instead, I opt for muted tones without pattern, seeking camouflage so I can blend into a background only I can feel.
The day after chatting with pi about my work in prison during the orange call of the global training, I have my aura photographed. The lady asks me what colour I feel; I tell her I have no sense of any colour at the moment. To my surprise, yet not surprised at all, I am basking in orange, like a cape.
I am in London for a beautiful interweaving of innerdance and other heart-based practices, co-creating with a wonderful soul. I realise it is during innerdance that everything makes sense. As everyone closes their eyes, I am not seen. I am not myself, I become the room, I blend into a state of unity with all that was, is and shall be. I dis-appear. My individual identity - whatever that was, ebbs away, clearing the path for truth.
I am yet to uncover if my tendency towards distance and introversion is truth or a habit which can feel like a cosy blanket, albeit a lonely one. As a two year old, I would take myself to sit underneath my mum's dressing table with a stack of ladybird books, each image, a portal to other planes which I immersed myself in for hours at a time. I spent many years on my swing, travelling within and beyond and my night and day dreaming were my sanctuaries of expansion.
Over the years, I have required more and more space to replenish and also to hide away, undisturbed. I read a book about the hidden dimension of space and how animals and humans have a need for proper spacing, that the effects of crowding on behaviour and well-being is detrimental, and when scientifically studied in rats, showed a downward spiral in their microcosmic societies. I read that animals have a critical distance for safety and I realise that no matter how much love is in my heart, birds will fly away when I get too close. When I was a little girl, I used to think that if they felt my love, they wouldn't need to take to the sky! I read about close contact groups and although I might not know very much at the moment, I know I am not from that group. But do I know that? Is it a fact or a groove in a well-played record?
I listen to Abraham Hicks and hear something which penetrates through the fog, it is a reference about how nature is always in the present moment. I feel my chin tilt subtly upward and my gaze brightens slightly. This is truth. I enter my living room and I see 6 wee birds on my balcony. I pause and then gently move towards the centre of the room, respecting their critical distance needs. They all remain on the balcony for several minutes as I absorb their beauty and most needed medicine. I take myself for a walk and as I leave the building, I see a chunky little pug. My heart smiles and breaks, I miss Pablo so much. I continue on my way, only to hear a tiny growl and bark. I turn around and realise that this little cutie wants me to say hello. I approach her - she is definitely in the close contact grouping - and I take some delicious minutes stroking her and massaging her left ear. I reluctantly say my farewell and walk away, feeling my heart begin it's resucitation. Moments later, I see my heron teacher. She is standing there, waiting for breakfast. I take a deep breath of joy, just as she launches into the air and flies away.
I realise that I am aligned, the timings were perfect. I am exactly where I need to be in the precise moment that nature, that life shows herself to me. If I had been a few heartbeats early and out of sync, I would not have met the choir of birds, a darling pug or heron. Their presence was fleeting, yet the indelible mark they have made on me ripples out to infinity. I remember what trust feels like and then the idea to write about critical distances, and proximity, arises within me.
Dear friends feel me stirring awake and reach out. I have been missed. Who me?, who is me anyway? Perhaps this is a time to close the distance and take some curious steps towards finding out...
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