Sacred Spaces

I drifted after having clumsily struggled with the lock �" on the side of the door for which I have complete control; sometimes fingers escape into the ether and leave the rest of our fidgeting bodies behind �" and I wanted to hop right back up through the rabbit hole because inspiration began to flower.

I am inspired, finally, by the metaphors that permeate my mind, and my right foot is caught in the doorway. My body leans toward the frame. Spit me out! I’m ready! Fingers twitching, a story throbbing through their fragile joints. One step ahead, they peel apart the entrance and pronounce their willingness to participate in mudras or by tracing letters in the air, abandoning my senses in whichever world they left behind. Is there two of me, or am I contrived of fractions of impressions from this thought and this insight and that person’s face? Why is the tribe of Me’s setting sail from the island from which all of their nourishment, the definition of their Place In The World, resides?

These metaphors, they finally ceased floating through in frayed wisps by the provocation of the sometimes grey Every Day, and began to sew themselves together into the ideas that have lodged themselves in my spine and my aching knees. Brilliance had come together in an instant and in that instant I became desperate to let it leak out of my willing fingertips onto the paper in front of me, oceans or blocks or inches away.

And God said, “Isn’t that the point?”

Now, hovering in the in-between, She plays me groovy music, chanting the words I’ll never forget:

God doesn’t have to stay in the mountains.

He can sit right next to you in the passenger’s seat fiddling with the dials of the radio and slice fruit and play with the tip of your pen, creating those funny squiggly lines that eat up your pages and mean so much to Us.

 

I thought I had to be a Writer. I thought that these fragments of pretty but detached language must metamorphose into a code for Us. I drowned in them when I knew I could walk on water.

I thought I had to meditate into that beloved dimension. I thought these visions must be interpreted for the Many Loves of My Life �" to connect us forever in a net of understandings and remarks of how all is right and every strand of every Thing will always catch the far end of another.

“Isn’t that the point?”

Isn’t it?

To brave the quivering balance beam between my two favorite worlds, and stitch together these two Sacred Spaces?