I once had a Life.

And in it there were cream colored carpets, umbrellas, sweet coffees, vacations, white gowns, red roses and a box at the end of my driveway that received in it, each day, neatly typed letters with my name spelled almost correctly.

And one night – I can´t remember which – a letter arrived.

“From My Soul, To My Heart”….with my name spelled right.

In the morning, the letter was gone, but the messages imprint on my mind and heart all too strong. It was an issue of emergency, requiring my most immediate attention. I packed up bag and Life — and set out on a mission.

Around the world we went, my Life and I.

Dancing on cream colored carpets of sand. Embracing the rain as we would the sun — arms spread wide, face upturned to the tide. Coffee from the bush – bitter, black and strong. Brief vacations “home”…hasty returns to the wild flower fields where Reality streaked red.

White gowns lost their allure — my attention caught by the whirlwind of white butterflies. Love – I found – was not of rings, but wings. And not confined to one, but ALL beings.

Dizzy in my flight, I did not see Time slip out the back door…

And one day, at the thud of an avocado on my tin roof, I woke up from reality.

Frantically, I dug through the depths of my bag, but my Life was not there. My heart raced down hallways disturbing dusty ideas that opened their doors, wiped the sleep from their eyes and replied, “no, we haven’t seen it (or you) for ages.”

Life. Was gone.

Something inside sunk deep in defeat. My hands, exhausted in their desperate grasp for the ungraspable, covered my face. My vision cupped in darkness, a single tear was shed. As I wiped the loss from closed eyes, the pain distorted view was cleared.

And before me I saw again — for the first time — my hands.

Curved in question marks of their own, I unrolled my fists and opened an observation…

What did these hands really want? Have they, for one second, ached to swirl elegant mixed cocktails? Craved to shake stiff handshakes with cold strangers? Wish to wither under the brashness of cuticle clipping manicures? Return to race on keboards at the pace of 80 words per minute? Do these hands feel inspired to autograph the thousands of neatly typed letters that come in the box at the end of the driveway with my name spelled almost correctly?

And did these hands — calloused by labors of love, naked of paint but colored in a shade of the sun, scarred by escapees of the full moon campfire…Did these hands, that know the beat of the drum as it resonates with the pulse of passion, did they really LOSE Life? Or had they in fact, in their release of the shadow of another’s dream…..FOUND it?

“Seen through at last!” my hands sighed in guilt-ridden relief.

New life tingled in the tips of eager fingers as I picked up a pen, and approached the white slate to begin…

“In THIS Life…”

In my old Life I did everything right.

Everything forward, in order, upside, and even.

Obeying logic, law and sense,

In accordance with rules and reason.

But that Life is gone, and now I start again.

And I watch my hand shake…

On the adrenaline of Intuition?

At the potential of embarking upon a clean slate?

Something stirs deep inside.

And it screams to scribble.

And so I do this;

I take down my white slate from its right-side up stand,

And I put it wrong-side down on the off-white colored sand,

And I note with curiosity,

where its square corners and straight borders….dissolve.

Into their proper place; Into obscurity.

Ah! I observe.

THIS is a very good sign.

And then I put down my pen,

And I pick up my paints.

For THIS life, I decide,

Will NOT be confined to black and white.

I pick up Green and begin,

In THIS Life I shall do everything wrong.

Everything backward, out of order, downside and odd.

Obeying heart, soul and intuition,

In accordance to the voices of spirit and inner vision.

In pursuit of the magical, mystical, and mysterious

A step behind my spirit to light all that is curious,

A new alliance of heart, body, mind and soul,

Set about on a mission to bring the cycle full,

Open eyes, perked ears, eager fingers stretched to embrace,

That which guides the orchestra for the first time I face,

And to pick up my own instrument of that which resonates musically,

With Truth, Self-Consciousness, Inner Spirit and Integrity.

But I have much work yet to look back upon,

So that the shadow of custom on the future won’t cast on,

Cobwebs must be swept and windows opened to expose,

The dusty corners of ideas that I always supposed.

Time to turn the light on, to that which I’ve been told not to do,

I pick up Gray, and think back to continue…

No more answers or definitions, but lots of animated banter about Why?

I’ll believe in my dreams, and recount the silliness of Life.

No more Yes, No more No. Letting silence just be.

Complimenting the quiet with smiles and cocked brows of curiosity.

Time not confined to a cell of 60 small seconds.

Letting the rooster caw attention to where it begins and it ends.

No half truths. No hidden truths. No flat out lies.

Only holding to that which rings true to the voice deep inside.

No more guilt. No more shame. No more hidden internal pain…

Due to rigid arms with fingers pointed at reasons they can’t name.

No being told not to talk, not to touch, not to hold.

Learning first hand from the bite, the sting and the cold.

No shame for what I don’t know, but pride for who I can be,

Honesty with and health of self, only My responsibility.

No talking proper, being silenced, no sitting straight and mundane.

No secret whispers hushed, no dancing told to tame.

No blushing over sex and the pleasures my body brings,

Expressions of Love allowed to sing, allowed to scream.

No rules on the order of who, what, when, where and why.

Reveling in the beauty of that which can’t be defined.

No clinging to far away futures, or doubts about my path,

Cupping gently each moment with respect before it’s past.

No more believing in history books because their voice is in print.

Becoming my own Truth detective, delighting in the chase of each hint.

No more accounting of Life in simple years passed by,

Validating my existence in sweats, screams, smiles and sighs.

No more pink, no more blue, no more sexual definitions of Who,

Each to her own path of discovering exactly who is You.

No more tall, no more short, no more fat, no more thin.

My spirit can hardly be confined to the body I’m in.

No more black and no white. No more wrong and no right.

Knowing all shades of gray only depend on the light.

No more scoffing at magic. No disclaiming daydreams.

Both exist in realms where what Is doesn’t Seem.

No more participating in traditions that I don’t understand.

But treasuring those with meaning I can grasp in my hand.

No more planting in zones of comfort and security,

Drifting on a wind of change as would the flower’s seed.

No more borders or barriers or titles to land,

Claims to ownership melting as a wave on the sand,

No more taking tickets and waiting in line for a Life,

Getting lost in the isles and in its pursuit finding delight.

No more sightlessly following the letter of law or of rule,

Asking my inner spirit for guidance on how I should choose.

No more bicker and banter about what’s real and what’s not,

To each to her own on what’s found and what’s sought.

Blue not confined to one single color dye,

But falling on a spectrum of shades of water, bird and sky.

Not just applauding the single moment the sun sets,

But encoring the night show for which the deepest sighs are kept.

No more bombs on the personal or war line fronts,

Fighting brutally for peace with unconditional Love.

No more TV, or movies or envying celebrities,

Finding the adventure in my own life, and meeting the Hero in me.

No more gossip or assumptions of those I don’t know,

Turning that energy to learning on instead how I might grow.

No more self-centered worlds based on “I” and on “me.”

Turning to “us” and to “we” and the web of our interdependency.

No more filling in voids with material toys,

Filling my chest with Truths that to only my heard I can hold.

And with new light cast from the past to the present,

Perhaps it’s time to extend from what isn’t.

Addressing what can be of the future starting now,

I pick up Yellow, and allow my thoughts to follow…

I will slow down my step and reach out to the wall,

No moment worth rushing, but to each attention being called.

I will congratulate death, recognizing it as pregnant with Life.

And hold every product of my being as gently as a child.

I will say sorry first, and get in line last,

Knowing Time is not limited to Present, Future and Past.

I will talk with my eyes and hear with my heart,

Understanding Truth as a 6th sense of creativity and Art.

I will feel my body, even when there is no pain,

I will dance without music, and laugh without aim.

I’ll celebrate birthdays as I would any other day,

But I’ll celebrate EACH day, as if it were the 1st day.

I’ll never reject a gift, even those I don’t need,

Knowing it’s a gift to the Giver that I happily receive.

I shall stare at the stars blankly for hours on end,

Enjoying the mental play they inspire and the questions wherein.

I shall value the life of an ant as my own,

Our similarity respected, our interdependency known.

(To Be Continued)

And with blue, I conclude;

With this promise,

I thee wed.

To Love thee Life,

Till my deathbed.

A material bundle you no longer are.

Not lost from my bag,

But a promise of the heart.