The mirror broke, it is no more. It fell from its perch on the mantle piece, for no discernible reason. What once was light and bright and whole is now a jumbled up cacophony of reflected light, bewildering both the eye and the mind. This mirror was a family heirloom, one that I had known all of my life. It had faithfully recorded my evolution from sprite to fawn to stag.
As I was looking at this mirror, which is no more, through tearful eyes, I noticed that each tiny shard held the memory of one reflection, which in itself is but one still frame in a movie, involving several characters. And each singular one of these movies has a different plot.
I took out my great grandmother’s silver jewellery box and, with infinite care I deposited each and every broken piece of the mirror, that is no more, on the burgundy velvet which lines it, thus safeguarding them from any further harm.
Every once in a while, I would take out the box, with its dull shining lustre, and I would pick out one shard at random and wonder… I would wonder what part of the puzzle, that constitutes my life, was held in the mysterious grasp of this particular one. Then I would sigh and put the piece back amongst its siblings, where it is content, thinking to myself that it did not really matter.
But then, one day I inadvertently put one shard back in its fortress, in an upside down position. When next the blue moon was its zenith, I opened the box and was dumbfounded to see through the back of this one upturned shard, into a sequence of one of my past experiences.
With a difference however, not only could I now discern the whole picture, which had hitherto always escaped me, but I could see more, much more… For the very first time, I realised that what I had always looked upon as the major mistakes, perpetrated by myself against myself, had actually purposefully happened, to steer me clear of worse mishaps, if not catastrophes.
Never again will I say to myself: “If only…” , for anything and everything that happens, does so for a purpose! I now hug my mistakes and wear them with pride, like badges. Dream or reality?
What’s This All About?
This life is an interesting experiment. Sometimes none of it makes any sense at all to me.
All of the suffering, all of the sorrow, what’s IS this crazy adventure we call “life” all about anyway?
Why should anyone be homeless or hungry, there’s far more than enough!
I entertain the idea that we’re simply little points of energy learning how to navigate and interpret the human experience, but WHY?
The difficulty is that the flesh is so fickle and then you add the mysterious drip drip of hormones and basic human need.
Not to mention those wild emotional spasms that interrupt our youthful merriment. What about those
ongoing spiritual growth spurts…and selfish back slides?
It’s bound to get messy.
Why is one human born into wealth and grace and another born into poverty and hopelessness?
Why do some find love and others search their entire lives and no one kind and unconditional ever once steps into their path and loves them forever? Why must some have so much and others have so little?
Why do some need so much and others need so little?
Why are some hearts soft and yielding while others are stone cold? Why are some children loved while others die of abuse and neglect? Why do very bad people live to be healthy well into their old age, and others that are good and loving die young? Why is there a need for constant struggle everywhere we look?
Why do we have to label ourselves as ONE THING, why must nations war in the name of GOD?
Why can’t we all flow and float, merge and wander, discover and share? Why can’t we ALL play sweetly together like children before they learn the word “MINE” and before they learn to control their joy? Before they develop “sophisticated” thinking. Why does maturity corrupt us so? These are just a few of the things that I think about when I walk across the hills all alone.
I´m working on it!
Embrace the Witch
She is real and warm
Her pots bubble before dawn
She is intimate in charming ways
She has ripened beneath sun, wind, clouds
She cares for tender things
She croons the rampant babes; she holds the frail hands of the dying
She binds, bends, splits, weaves, blesses, conserves
Her hands bleed, she digs, she plants, she gathers
She prays, her incantations sincere and just
She dances beneath silver moons, her feet bare, her heart surging
She helps, heals, shelters, encourages,
She feels, she sees, she knows
She is merry, with well-lit eyes
She is devoted, loyal, discrete
She walks in truth; head high, intent, purposeful
She is never bored, boredom is but bitter bane
She is good-woman, wise-woman, crone-woman, beloved woman
She gives good gifts, time and nurture
She is forthright, honest, and fair
She is matron, mother, and crone