The Singer

As I explored the market, I ascended the staircase for the second time and noticed the singer. Many may not have even given him a second look, but I did. My ears enjoyed the sharpness of his voice and the nostalgic sound of the accordion amidst the voices of shopkeepers and customers passing by. The sound of his instrument seemed to linger in the hallways and corners of the whole market, lighting up the dark places with the luminescent sound. He wore dirty jeans and a dusty grey t-shirt with work boots that were tapping along to the music. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he wore a ball cap backwards atop his head. His jawline was very square and his eyes were set back just slightly; not enough to really notice unless you were studying his features. There was something comforting about him and his face was very pleasant to look at even though there was a sadness that accompanied the pleasantness.




As I passed by him, our eyes met briefly, just giving me enough time to notice the gentleness and mystery that both intrigued me. I convinced myself to pass by another time and drop a few dollars into his accordion case. His eyes smiled at me as he said two simple words; thank you. His teeth were very straight yet they were slanted just enough to appear slightly bucked; the perfect angle. He wasn't playing then, but leaning against the wall, smoking and watching those passing by. As I realized I had to leave, I made eye contact with him one last time. Smiling, I tried to communicate something with my eyes; not knowing what I wanted to convey but convinced that I couldn't leave without making an attempt. Taking a long pull from his cigarette, he gave me a heartwarming and genuine smile as he let the smoke escape his mouth. It was a reply, I could sense it, as if we were conversing without speaking. I felt giddy and bubbly inside, as if Peter Pan had just smiled at me.




Walking away, I knew I didn't want to leave but needed to soak up more of that radiant smile. Toying with the idea of looking one last time at him, I had made up my mind. I decided I couldn't look again, too afraid of seeing something of him that would change the elation I just felt. My body overrode my will as I turned again, only to see him singing heartily and tapping his feet to the music he was making; that same look on his face. One of boyish happiness and genuine peace.

I believe that my personal potential is as profound as I will allow it to be and that finding the abiltiy to do so is the challenge I currently face.

I stand on the edge of this cliff. The wind shoots through my hair and rearranges my feathers that were so carefully chosen. I can smell the scent of buffalo meat, smokey and full of spices, as it roasts over the fire. The hides are freshly skinned and in preparation for tanning. As I look down on my camp I see the stories that the smoke tries to tell as it carelessly dances with the fierce wind. Each tee pee telling it's own story. An individual life belongs to it, the hides and wood that form it have much to tell. I see my mother hobble from the fire, adorned in shells stringed to a necklace that falls almost to her waist. Her silver hair twisted with the pungent smell of leaves and feathers blows in the wind also, creating a small tornado with the smoke nearby. A small boy peeks out from behind his tent and chases one of the camp dogs around the cooking meat; only making the salivating canine more hungry.

The young warriors huddle just behind the longhouse mixing the red of bark with berry juice. I see them marking their faces and chests, wanting to take pride in their new positions within camp. It was a well run family. It was.

Alas, as I stand here, I only see what was. The sounds of guns filling my ears as the cries of my people rise above that smoke. They came and took our land and didn't want to share what already belonged to us. They killed without heart never caring about ours. How I wish it could still be the way we used to live; with feathers in our hair and the pride of the eagle in our hearts.

What moves you? What rhythm stirs a deep emotional pull from down in your heart? Does that same old song give you that wholesome and wonderful moment of euphoric embodiment of the past?

It does for me...Why not for you?

Are the trees the same true green they have always been to you? The wind whistling through gives the leaves that movement they need to travel. Do you still travel; are you feeling that necessary movement in your everyday?

I still do...Why not you?

If those pictures are still with you do you still look at them? Does your whole body remove itself from this present moment to reconnect with that intense and lovable day? Are you too afraid that these memories might overtake you?

I am not...Why are you?

Just One Day

If I could relive only one day, what would it be? Would you rather know what to expect or go in not remembering that day? Would you pick only an hour of that previous day or does the whole length of it exhilarate you?

I think I know just the day that I would chose. It would start out with me waking up to the sun blanketing the doorway of my room. My legs would feel the cool fabric of my favorite rhinestone jean shorts. They used to sparkle; ocher yellow and a tantalizing fuchsia would glimmer off my pockets. I wore that purple tee shirt to finish the look, it was a comforting outfit. I always felt safe and confidant.

My feet would touch the soft carpet and then make their way to the kitchen where the sun's rays wound their way through the blinds and magnified a golden hue across the wood floor. The cool of that floor was always refreshing, yet the feel of that green carpet on the back porch was the feeling of summer. The refreshing and new smell off the leaves and grass was marvelous. The dew and the morning mist signified that all of nature was waking up to a new day.

That was how each day started so how am I ever to choose? Many days we would explore in the creek or stay inside and play games and laugh. If the sun decided to stay we might even use the neighborhood as our playground; running on the uneven dirt path behind all the houses.

Is that the day I would pick? Perhaps... Yet, with a storehouse brimming with precious memories, a treasure chest of sparkling pieces, how could I ever decide? Could you?

Practice

I am at a point where I feel like life is playing tug-of-war with me. I am not unhappy, I am simply comfortablely pulling towards a slightly different path. I am still pulling back, the burning in my hands is energizing me. Even when I get pulled to the other side and I'm losing I feel relief. I have to stumble to grow.

A Shoe

A shoe; what make it an accessory? Perhaps that it is necessary for us to walk with, a staple of our daily wardrobe. A pair may dress us up or simply act as support against rough and possibly unruly ground. Some of us may even find shopping for a new pair or these witty and fashion forward friends a chore. Scouring store after store for the perfectly dramatic pair while trying to enjoy the exceptionally loud music that greets our ears as we step into yet another store. There they are again, stepping into the store with us!

Have you ever considered though the possibility that your shoes have been witness to many intimate moments in your life? They were on your feet when you pushed the rough spiky pedals of your first bright red tricycle, or when you went on that heart-pounding first date with the love of your life. They see everything and yet they keep amazing secrets. they would never dare share anything! Well perhaps they might with the other pairs that live in your closet; demanding information about your night out. It seems they have a personality and a spark that is dying to give you the confidence and support you need for your day.

You may ask what makes an accessory such as a shoe different from that of a comfy sweater or a sparkling beaded necklace? For a fact they are with us much longer than other pieces of our outfits, sometimes glittering in our closests for years. The importance of their job is also much more serious because they hold us up throughout our whole days' journey! They are completely opposite of your face, yet they are some of the first things noticed when you light up a room.

So have you now gleaned a new perspective on your ever interesting shoes? Hopefully now when you brave the shopping mall to find a new pair you will think carefully about what that certain pair has to offer you...

Behind Closed Eyes

Somehow it is no surprise to me yet I still wonder why I see you behind closed eyes. That dark room filling with color and light. I see first your smile, then a nose followed by eyes. Sometimes the actions are foggy yet some occasions make themselves clear; many times against my conscious will. I don't hear voices often, the picture is most vivid in my mind. Yet tonight I won't allow myself to dream those thoughts of you. The images behind my eyes that weave and mold into a theatrical masterpiece still horrify me every time. When will I rid myself of your grasp? At which point will you finally allow me to go? My heart has moved on yet it seems that my mind has not. Separating these two might be my only change of forgetting. Not an erasing of memories; folding them and placing them in sealed trunks for the future won't harm anyone at all. But perhaps it will. This puts the heart of my dear one out on the line and I will not allow that! My whole self screams "No!" That is why you will no longer share in my thoughts, no longer will I have to see your face when I sleep. My knight has come and he is not afraid to defeat you; already he has. Swooping in he obliterates your memory to worthless pieces, never to be thought of again. I see a new objective with a new perspective.

Fey

I can see her, peeking out from behind a tree trunk carefully becoming for me to come closer. I've seen her before and I've tried to avoid her but each time with no avail. The blond of her hair peeks out from the braided crown of leaves that she wears and her flowing gown dances with the grass as she dances with the sunlight. My senses seem to heighten when she is around; this willow tree moves differently. Instead of seeing only branches blowing in the wind I see life. Each leaf responding to the warm blanket of the sun with a movement of grace and fluidity.

Her nae is Fey. With each arrival she forces me to reconcile with my feelings. I have tried to ignore her slight attempts to capture my attention, with only the feeling of more intrigue and curiosity visiting me.Fey is known to arrive only when I need to recognize something that I am missing. When my world feels overwhelming and I forget the feelings that comfort me, God sends me Fey.

She doesn't really have one single thing she tries to accomplish, only the purpose of awareness. To see the true green of the grass, to watch the ball thrown for the dog without missing the bouncing as it hits the turf or the rolling as it hits a hollow in the terrain. I look to my right and see another beautiful creature looking onto the scene before him with curiosity and silent concern; his pink thin tongue hanging from his mouth. He is barking now, crying for his family. I see him, I feel him.

Then I see it, the full picture of this painting that I'm in. All of this life coming together to harmonize into the big picture. We will share, hasn't' humanity always finalized that way? Together we are one... Then I see her pass us all as she decides I understand.

She Is

She breathes, she speaks, she is. The mat is her fortress, that place where she feels secure. I know that the time that I spend in her guidance will be a journey. This time she gives me completely changes those images behind my eyes as they close. I am a queen, fairy, a dream... This journey is her gift to us; a completely and utterly transforming experience. Not only is this hour an amazing shedding of old thoughts and emotions, it is also an hour that we use to build that sparkling castle of our character. A complete change of heart happens here! Forget the complications you entered with, they are gone! Every corrective and encouraging word that comes from her sounds like music as you fly through that time of metamorphosis. Push, push, FLY! I see people and places that I once knew. I feel emotions that haven't been with me in years, an awakening of myself I had buried deep inside of me and needed that key to release. I see her with that key; we all do. I watch her as she pushes us; she sees the goal. The fire in her eyes wants us to see that same beauty or to only glimpse that rainbow of freedom that she sees.

Then I awaken. My eyes open with new perspective and new health. One simple hour has past.