Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Beauty Rises

A blood red moon hangs over our town tonight. An old fire on Mount Hood has flared up, and smoke filled the gorge. When I woke up this morning, I noticed the light on the floor coming through the slates was red. I knew before I looked outside that we were in the midst of a fire. In all the years I've lived here, I don't think I've ever seen the air this bad.

Despite the smoke, I didn't feel especially anxious. Things felt better today than they had yesterday. In the middle of the day, I got in the car and drove an hour to see a movie. I was the only one in the movie theater. In fact, I think I may have been the only customer in the entire 16 theaters in this particular complex. So I sat in the middle of the small theater with my feet up, and I watched Mamma Mia. (I generally don't like musicals, especially ones made into movies. So I cringed several times when they started singing. But Vicki was right: The scene where the women sing and snake down to the water is wonderful! Much of the movie is mythic and tribal in a hidden Hollywood kind of way. And Pierce Brosnan is so pretty to look at, Meryl Streep, too. They both look their age and they're both beautiful. By the way, if you go see this movie, watch it until the end, after the credits, until you see the three men come onto the stage. That's all I'm saying.)

Anyway, I sat in the movie theater and watched this movie all by myself, and I started to relax. I laughed, sometimes at myself more than anything on the movie screen. And as my mind was entertained watching these pretty people dance and sing, I realized what I need to do to feel better. I need to work. I need to create. I have got to start writing again. Or doing art. Something creative.

At one point during the movie I called Mario and we talked for a bit. No one else was in the theater, so I wasn't bothering anyone.

Afterward I stopped at the grocery store and then I drove home.

Slept. Dreamed.

In the morning I prepared for a client. Today I was going to use some of the skills I had learned at my workshop with Sandra Ingerman. One more thing for my healers basket. When I am relaxed, without expectations, I love doing healing work almost more than anything else. I have the same feeling I have when I'm writing. I am in the flow. So I prepared my room. I love our little rented house and my room. I love all the Old Mermaids. I love the wabi sabi feel of our house. I rolled out the mat in the middle of the room. (That was where the client would be while I did my work.) Then I spread a small quilt my mom had made me over the mat. Next, I put down the Old Mermaid quilt my father and I made right after my mom died. I put a fresh case on a pillow and then set that on the mat. Next to this, I put my drum, rattle, singing bowl, an Old Mermaid bag I had made and a healing stone.

All simple. Special.

Forty-five minutes before my client was due to arrive, I got cramps. The intestinal kind. It did not feel like nerves. For one thing, I wasn't nervous. But it wasn't letting up. I drank more water. I took an epsom bath. Then took a hot and cold shower. Felt better. Phew!

What happens when I do work with someone is private, so I won't reveal anything personal about our time together today, of course. What I can say is that I've asked people to let me try out this new healing method I've learned. It's suppose to help with trauma and loss of vitality. The word has gotten out, so now I'm doing the work! I think like most things, you get better at it as you do it more.

I will tell you one thing that happened, since it doesn't directly involve the client. While I was finishing up and drumming, I noticed a marble on the floor, stuck under the heater. I thought, "Ahhh, this is the gift I'm supposed to give him." I had planned on giving him a seashell. Sometime later, I remembered to get the marble. I leaned down and pulled it out. It was a green marble. A big one. One of my favorites. I have never seen another marble like this one. I looked at it and thought, "Ooooh, I can't give this away. It is too beautiful." My next thought was, "You are too attached to this. Let it go."

And so I did.

Later, I spent an hour, more or less, sitting up against a huge old oak tree with my client. The air was ruddy. I knew I should be nervous sitting out in the smoky day, but I wasn't. I was still in the flow, sitting in healing space with another person.

A couple hours later, I went to the Gathering. Our hostess had a surprise for us this night. After we ate outside, she had us line up the chairs so that they were facing her porch. We tried to guess what was happening. "Some young men are going to come dance for us," I said. She laughed and said, "Close." "Some old men, then?" I asked.

She plugged in a boom box and turned on the music. A moment later, a belly dancer came down the stairs and danced out onto the porch. As darkness began to fall, she danced for us. After a while some of us got up and danced with her. Soon a whole line of us were up dancing. Primal. Tribal. Glorious.

Later, much later, in the darkness, we talked a little about ourselves.

When I got home, I saw the bloody moon coming up behind the Old Oak.

Inside the house, Mario waited. He closed his book and smiled when I came in through the door. I grinned. How amazing is my life? This was such a beautiful day. I prepared in beauty. I bathed in beauty. I drummed in beauty. I journeyed in beauty. I sat with the oak in beauty. I danced in beauty.

I danced in beauty!

I ate in beauty. Mario put vanilla and then dark chocolate Coconut Bliss into a bowl with bananas for me.

Aaaahhhh. What a good day.

P.S. Thanks for your comments and emails today and yesterday. They helped!

P.S.S. I hope this makes sense. This computer makes me so sick to my stomach that it's difficult to proof it. I figured out what's making me sick. For a small number of people, the LED-backlit computer screens cause a kind of motion sickness. I am one of those people. I love this little computer—except for the making me want to throw-up part—but it's gone up on Craigslist. Hasta la vista, Lily White Deux.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Love, LOVE this post, Kim. So glad the creative juice is rising in you again! Love from the Old Mermaids up north.

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