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.