Tonight as I climbed up the ladder to my loft in nearly total darkness I thought of how many times I had climbed up there to sleep. I thought of the stairway, really more like a ladder, illuminated by the Full Moon, dark in an overcast sky, polished and light in color when new in 1978, company sometimes, many climbs up to the loft in solitude, baptism of cold in winter and all the times I have managed to get a piece of furniture up there, or down from there, that didn't seem as though it would fit.
The images of my years in this house, in this life flickering like film clips gone before I really saw them.
It certainly isn't an original idea that when you are 3 years old, a year is one third of your entire life.
A short time is an entirely different construct than it is as one moves along. It doesn't hold, though that at 40, a year is 1/40th of your life, or at 60, 1/60th; moving along the continuum reveals it to not have been a continuum at all, or even a spiral. It is all happening now. I'm still that young hopeful girl who insisted it was possible to live here, until eventually it was. I suspect somewhere in here there is, a lifeless body on the floor, waiting to be found by the smell, betrayed by the uncollected mail, unpaid bills.
In Greek Mythology, Khaos was the great grandmother of time, The goddess of the great darkness from which emerged all created phenomena, resolving into harmonious order. She was the original source of all manifestation, a spouseless goddess, the abyss, the gap, and for a moment, the tiniest of temporal slices, I had the curtain of the illusion of separateness, the dance of dualities pulled back, and the experience of the mysterious presented to me.
Eternity, timelessness, no ground, no reference point no picture to hang on to. In the gap of the great source of all possibility there is an invitation. No fear. No thing. Something I can't know from here but that dances through the fabric of the universe we are designed to be in as long as we have a nervous system.
I have had a thread laid in my hand that I know will lead me home. I am a visitor in this life, a traveler and am intimately connected to everything I am, everything I am not and have a simple [but given my habits, perhaps not easy] task of choosing peace over conflict, love over indifference, generosity over aggression, forgiveness over ego. Today I am sure that this is the only way the world may heal.
The images of my years in this house, in this life flickering like film clips gone before I really saw them.
It certainly isn't an original idea that when you are 3 years old, a year is one third of your entire life.
A short time is an entirely different construct than it is as one moves along. It doesn't hold, though that at 40, a year is 1/40th of your life, or at 60, 1/60th; moving along the continuum reveals it to not have been a continuum at all, or even a spiral. It is all happening now. I'm still that young hopeful girl who insisted it was possible to live here, until eventually it was. I suspect somewhere in here there is, a lifeless body on the floor, waiting to be found by the smell, betrayed by the uncollected mail, unpaid bills.
In Greek Mythology, Khaos was the great grandmother of time, The goddess of the great darkness from which emerged all created phenomena, resolving into harmonious order. She was the original source of all manifestation, a spouseless goddess, the abyss, the gap, and for a moment, the tiniest of temporal slices, I had the curtain of the illusion of separateness, the dance of dualities pulled back, and the experience of the mysterious presented to me.
Eternity, timelessness, no ground, no reference point no picture to hang on to. In the gap of the great source of all possibility there is an invitation. No fear. No thing. Something I can't know from here but that dances through the fabric of the universe we are designed to be in as long as we have a nervous system.
I have had a thread laid in my hand that I know will lead me home. I am a visitor in this life, a traveler and am intimately connected to everything I am, everything I am not and have a simple [but given my habits, perhaps not easy] task of choosing peace over conflict, love over indifference, generosity over aggression, forgiveness over ego. Today I am sure that this is the only way the world may heal.
Like your blog.
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