It feels like yesterday…has it really been that long? Or is ‘that long’ in fact quite short?
I thought I held the key to my own mystery, and I did in a way. I just didn’t carry on through the newly opened door. I faltered and doubted, and I ran back through to where I had been before.
The problem with that, is that I saw and experienced things; oh such beautiful delights I saw! I saw a world of bright, vivid colours, sparkling seas, humbling emotions, solid and wise trees, deepest blue skies and starry nights of music, dancing and wanderlust. That world had always been there, I just had new eyes.
In the mirror I began to see something, like an old skin falling away; shedding. Under it I could see undulating, soft, feminine hips that wanted nothing more than to sway and tilt, and dance and move. Eyes that loved to see with no filters, only truths. A mouth that couldn’t help but spread into an exultant and loving smile. A body of beautiful stretch marks that told stories of growth, a body of curves and moles and skin and bones, and sinew and blood that wanted to talk to me of circulation, creation and renewal.
I saw me. She was beautiful. She was on fire, sensual, sexual, loving, cheeky, playful, joyful, humble, free and wild; Goddess-like creativity embodied.
I was beginning to see through the image in the mirror past the skin and bone… deep, deep down into where a heart lay pulsating. That heart was jumping with life and joy – A.K.A love. Past the heart was a soul that was connected to everything; it knew no beginning or end. You could say I was beginning to love myself fully.
I took from the mirror and gave out what I was learning, like this, writing to whomever wanted to read. Giving back and spreading the message.
Why did I think it was OK to go back to where I was before without drastic changes? I went back to my ‘everyday’ life and expected I could just implement what I’d learned somehow, surrounded by the same systems that had been there before I’d seen what I saw. I didn’t expect anymore major challenges, I thought I was ‘there’…wherever ‘there’ is. When challenges came, I faltered, I fled, I failed.
The space was different, the food was different, the feelings were different. There was always someone around. There were always things to do that I didn’t really want to do.
Could I dance like no one was watching if people were around? Could I pray, could I meditate, could I stare in the mirror to talk to my soul and cry my old self to sleep until the old skin began to shed. Could I do all the things I had done when I was away and alone with time, and space and me on my side? Where would the money come from? How would I live, how would I be? Who was I here?
In all my fears and doubts and trembling questions…I retreated back out of the door of sacred delights I had experienced. I locked it firmly in a sleep-walk; it must have been a sleep-walk for I don’t recall locking it.
The key hangs from my neck, and is even engraved in ink into my skin, as a reminder. A reminder of that place.
I can only call it home. It’s not a physical place as such, it’s a feeling in the heart and soul. A deep self-knowing. So it stands to reason that home should come with me wherever I am. Lately as I’ve really begun to feel buried in old ash that I thought I’d scattered, I don’t know who that person in the mirror is. I feel home calling me. I know what it looks and feels like to me, but I can’t seem to find the door, or perhaps the door is in front of me always and so is the key…so what is it I can’t find?
I miss that me again. That real me. She seems to get lost a lot.
Me beyond the borders of physicality, beyond the edges of mind. The door has to be where I found it last doesn’t it? The key is me.
Do I retrace my steps or find a new way?