light

i cannot sleep. a familiar feeling keeping me up. the shift. physical. mental.

sharp pains striking my chest. my feet. my stomach. my hands. what is this? i ask.

and then the lights flicker.

wind howls in the cold dark grey space between night and morning. calling my name. whistling at me. taunting me.

and then the power goes out.

could this be it? could this be the end of the world? the end of my world? the end of my life? fear takes over.

and then, an explosion. a boom. a bright light. piercing through the window and onto my wall.

i’m certain. the ship has crashed.  they’re here. my time has come to return home. i am no longer worthy of existence on this planet. but i am not ready to leave earth. this temporary home. cold and dark as it is. i love her dearly. i am terrified.

and then, i tip toe toward the window. no longer do i wish to be alone. cradling my dog. my anchor.

peering through the window, i come face to face with the source. of my fear.

an electrical fire. burning down a telephone pole across the street. mother nature’s sparkler. reminding us of her power. taking out our artificial power.

forcing us to disconnect. to unplug. to detox from the fake white light. detached from our own.

no longer do i feel alone.

 

the butterfly people

staring up at the night sky. with my anonymous companion sitting by my side. i want them to see what i see. and i see the stars. all of them. tonight they are going to put on a show. i can tell by the way they start to move. it’s subtle at first. one by one they begin to shift and shoot across the sky. warming up. building momentum. pretty soon they will dance.

and then pretty soon turns into right now. and right now they are floating and jumping around like a confused school of fish. such a lovely sight. i want to take it all in before it goes away. cause it always goes away. this scene never lasts longer than a few heartbeats. and my heart is beating. because i know what comes next.

the dancing usually turns violent. and i usually panic. anticipating doom.  the stars twisting and turning. swirling around so fast my head spins. i panic cause i feel powerless. no control. my human body stands no chance against the inevitable crash. and they always crash.

but tonight is different. tonight i am calm. i know the stars are going to crash because i’ve experienced it before. yet here i am. still standing. heart still beating. i always survive the crash. because the crash is just an illusion.

just an illusion i say to myself. and something shifts within me. no longer worrying about the crash. no longer playing it out over and over in my head and bracing for the impact. this time  is different because i am looking forward to crash. i’m ready for what awaits me. and then a light goes on.

and the light appears to me as a star. but this star is not dancing. its movement and hue set it apart from the others. a tiny yellow ball of light. drifting with the wind. toward me. all the other stars are white. but this one is yellow. this is my star. and tonight is the night i get to formally introduce myself. finally.

the ball of light is getting closer and bigger. it has a dark spot. a silhouette. i see wings. a butterfly. i see the silhouette of a butterfly. a glowing butterfly coming my way. closer. nearer.

i extend my arm and she lands. perches. kind of like a bird. but her body looks like a bat. a bat with beautiful monarch butterfly wings. i am so lucky this creature has chosen my arm to land on. i can’t believe this is happening.

i blink and the butterfly shifts. changes shape. the butterfly has turned into a human. she looks exhausted. she says we’ve made contact before. and i tell her about the dream i had. the one with the path of butterfly wings on the sidewalk. and she nods her head.

she says that i may be one of them. a butterfly person. and only time will tell. they will visit me again. and over the course of their visits, lessons will be taught. and i will be tested on these lessons. i’m told to be vigilant. and vigilant i will be.

i look forward to the lessons. to the tests. the transformation. maybe one day i will learn why the stars dance. and learn how to dance with them up in the sky. and float down to earth. and check up on the people.

until then i can only dream.

sit back and enjoy the show.

the cycle

in the air. on the air. of the air.

off. the air. out of our vehicle. on to land. to this foreign place.

and here. the air. salty. dry. bright.

and the sidewalks. paved with dirt. fresh dirt. clean dirt. pure dirt.

feet sinking in to the earth with each footstep. like walking on foam.

no bags. no phone. no way of escaping the past, present, or future. i am here for the first time. with mother at my side.

she speaks no words. she is able to be. and she being is enough. we’re in this together. calm washes over me. i feel light.

i am her. and she is here.

how long will we be?

no matter.

looking down. i see the butterflies. everywhere. their wings littering the sidewalk. littering the dirt. littering our path.

bodies attached to wings. tiny bodies. or are they snakes? are they tiny snakes with wings?

no matter.

she picks one up. and it turns to mud. i feel the body crumble in her hands. wet and elastic.

one moment these bodies are bodies. and when they are no longer bodies, they are dirt. fresh dirt. clean dirt. pure dirt.

yet the wings that were once attached to these bodies remain. glittering the sidewalk. glittering the dirt. glittering our path.

no longer does this place feel foreign.

for. in this place. the wings are eternal.

and that is enough.

 

origins

please send me a message about my true origins. one that i will clearly remember upon awakening.

And then I drift…

floating. on a campus. through the concrete structures that tell us where and how to gather. the air is thin and frosty. and the sun is about to rise. but it’s still dark. foggy without fog. am i wandering around aimlessly or am i aiming for something to aim at?

i see crowds of people gathered up ahead. inadvertently following the advice of the concrete structures. a small cloud of breath forms above their crowns. it looks like smoke. as i near, the crowd appears more like a circle. and Or is at the center. attention is aimed at him. and attention flows right back to the attention givers.

words are not spoken because words are not necessary here. this is where we go to escape the noise. escape the need for words. residing in the static between radio stations. there is so much beauty and life in this silence. and this silence sounds like tambourines and laughter.

i remember a time when silence was uncomfortable. but discomfort is necessary. a form of suffering. a rite of passage. the moment we make peace with the discomfort of silence, we make a new friend named patience.

we fear silence because we fear change. we fear ourselves. not unaware of our capabilities, but unwilling to manifest. lost in the noise.

and here we are.

i float over the circle and i’m spotted by Or. He jumps up and joins me on my journey of aimlessly aiming. i trust Or so together we soar. higher than i thought i could go. excitement bounces between us, fueling our momentum. Or has done this before. his calmness comforts me and gives me confidence to continue.

we float above the trees. through the trees. through the branches. through the telephone wires. so far up that all we see are dots. sparkling dots. like artificial land stars. i am so happy that i’ve made it here.

i blink. and we go back down. our friend would like to join us. a friend neither of us have met before. but we’ve heard her call. so we show up. we show up because we care.

our friend has long strawberry blonde hair. i want to just pick her up. that seems like the logical approach. and so i do. but she is like a magnet. dragging us back down. she is so heavy. but the weight is an unnecessary illusion.

i notice that Or is keeping a distance. and he’s doing just fine.

so i try a new approach. she knows she can fly. i know she can fly. Or knows she can fly. we know she knows. now is she ready?

i think so. i think so hard that it tingles. i think so hard that i know. and so. she becomes weightless. her weightlessness is perpetual. and so she flies.

my crown is pulsing. now aimed at the sun. we are gaining speed. gaining confidence. and once again we are on our way. to the next radio station.