Crossroads

curtain
October 23, 2014

A curtain fell between us.
Maya wove her spell.
I felt the chasm open
as I fell into hell.

Sorrow fell like feathers
into my lonely head.
And I approached the
shuttle to weave the words
I said.

Nothing stands between us
but the river and its flow.
The strands of time are woven
as above and so below.

Green waters move along
as threads that weave
a love so fine
Afloat in love each hour
brings one note and it
is Thine.

I am at a crossroads. Bigger Than The Sky is out and seemingly, the future ahead is simply more of the same. A quiet life, the occasional kirtan, weekly Tai Chi and entirely too much time on my hands. Yet time is merely a measurement and one you will never be able to hold in your hands or put in your pocket for a rainy day. When I was writing oneliners, here is one I liked. “The plane was so crowded that every time we hit an air pocket, I put something in it.”

I just like the act of writing. It comes so easily to me. As I lay in bed this morning lazily, I pondered the fact that essence never changes. I am who I was as a child; so is everyone else. The persona is built up but persona never touches essence. It is our essence that is bigger than the sky. It is essence that carried my friend Peter through his accident and illness. It is essence that enables me to type these words fresh off the fingers, as it were.

Pondering is part of my essence. I have never understood the enthusiasm people have for engaging in activities. I don’t decorate for holidays or enjoy doing anything with my hands except strike the keys. I do admit to having a need for order in my world. Otherwise, I feel threatened by the chaos. I have Virgo rising, which makes me a neat freak. I would say it is impossible for me to appear messy. People would remark on it when I was small. Virgo explains it.

Dutiful is a word that might describe me as a personality, too. I dislike being late or running out of things in the pantry. This is personality forcing me into a certain mold. Joan Rivers: “My body is falling so fast, I sleep in a Jello mold.” (I didn’t write that; it just popped into my head.)

This quality made me a great caregiver, for I had no trouble covering all of the bases. But I also knew that it was a useless endeavor, for my essence knew the future. I had a dream right before Bob was diagnosed with his cancer. It showed us on different sides of a river. I was walking along picking up shells, quite happily doing my thing. Interpretation: I would have many years without him.

Nevertheless, it has been only recently that the grief has abated to any great extent. It happened when a shaman gave me a healing. After spending an hour with him, my deep grief had lifted suddenly to an amazing degree. He gave me a word of guidance: Be grateful. And I am. And I keep on writing like there is no tomorrow. If there was, I would have put it in my pocket.

Vicki Woodyard

3 Comments

  1. Vicki, This strikes me very deeply. I understand that sense of being the same though the body changes from little girl, young woman, middle age and now a crone. Your words usually resonate, but this was particularly poignant. Blessings…

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