Written on December 23, 2019
That scrappy, little, blue-black bird; the grackle, somehow finding fresh water in the desert with a keen eye at finding choice morsels of food among the crumbs. He nose dives into his treasure with calculated recklessness. Proud and alone, he sings his song. Blue iridescent feathers shining on his long tail ~ ready to pounce. That’s the soul I want to be! You see, even alley cats long to find a home, but birds, birds are free. Home is where they land, soaring free into the sky.
I don’t want to be caged in domesticity, complacency, fading into the background as someone else’s keeper or caretaker. Even in those roles, I’m still fending for myself. What difference would it make if I’m in a gilded cage or on the streets, if I’m still my only nurse, my only comfort and protector?
Scrappy blue-black bird, do you hope to find a home someday?
An alley cat strutting the streets alone, sometimes admired for her independence and sometimes unseen, safe in the shadows. It’s safe there to dream, remembering glory days. Alley cat used to have a home, and a family of other cats. Her fur was once thick, silky and black. It’s been a rough life, kicked out of her home, too many deaths, too many losses, is what turned her feral again, prowling the streets at night. There’s safety there, in the shadows. The thought of home scares her, it isn’t safe. It scarred her, to be another’s keeper, another’s caretaker. No pride in that, only loneliness and heaviness. Can I be both, grackle and alley cat? Why not? I have many fractals of myself.
Sometimes in my eyes I see a defiant glint of mischief, a naughty streak of joy hunter and pleasure grabber. Then there is a crack in my crooked smile and my right eye falters, showing weary sadness. I thought I could fly, so how did I end up drowning in this sea of emotions? Like a plane lost at sea, circling the Bermuda triangle, trying to solve the mystery of the Sphinx. Lost in my own my curiosity; I’m a moth to a flame. I heard that’s where passion lives, if only I couldn’t get burned. I long for something that is safe and warm, but all that that I have is all that is gone, just me and my restless heart.
Written on December 25, 2019
Message from a mediation: Restless heart, speaks alone to me tonight, wondering when I'll stop running. Reminding me of a distant home outside of this dimension, that I had almost forgotten. Through space and time ~ my guides await me, casting their love and energy all around me. Helping me see the people and events they put in my path to guide me home.
They showed me the musician, healing with hands that dance across the strings of my heart, helping me feel alive again. They showed me the doctor, advising me not to burn out my candle too fast and casting a net of safety and understanding around me, reminding me of who I am and where I’m headed. I saw other brilliant lights of people I have met, glowing and smiling, seeing the best in me, even when I could not. Helpers along the way, like streetlights for the stray cat to find her way.