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Shaft of Light

I’ve taken to talking to the Boxelder beetles. They are all over my house, so what else can I do? I pluck them up and take them outside, scolding them on the way. But, there’s always another, so I talk to them quite a bit. I have seen no trace of a Black Widow lately. Kind of wish I had one to pal around with. They were such nice companions. The Boxelders are funny. Their antennae so expressive! One was on my tall lamp crawling around the rim of the shade. I turned the lamp on; it stopped….antennae straight up in a clear expression of surprise. Well, it was clear to me. Thank goodness for bugs! My bees out today, hurray! Clumped up around the entrance to the hive. I hope to get in there with them tomorrow & see what in the world they are doing in there. Eeeee! First time since November? I just can’t wait. Oh, how beautiful bees are. Take a look, next time you have a chance.

Ok, so back to black sea. Yes, come on, keep up. I switch just like that. Light to….heavy ocean water upon my very chest. I drop out, down, down. All the while in absolute and complete shock that there is deeper to go and more dark within me. Really? Come on, already. How much can one soul take? My poor heart. I had the image pop into my head this morning during meditation of my heart being pulled out of my chest and stomped on. I think that about sums it up. The octopus gone. Soft tentacles lose their hold and let me sink. I see them floating above me, reaching for me. My body sinking mercilessly into thickness. There’s nothing down here. Nothing. I’m left completely alone with myself. No voice. No construct of ego left down here. Just raw. So painfully exposed. So hard to look at myself like this. I do not want to see it. I drive up the mountain in the middle of the night. Climb up my familiar path a bit and lay in the snow and cry at the beauty of stars peeking at me through the trees. No one here but me and the darkness and the great, big beautiful earth and stars above.

Home and sleep a few hours. Up early, before my alarm. Push myself through my yoga routine with that image of my heart being stomped. To work. Push myself some more and get lots done. Whoa. Don’t get in my way today. No one did. Run myself up the mountain and down at lunch. Forget the hiking boots — I put on my running shoes and ran the whole way, pushing my lungs and legs. I drive home through more tears. Keep up with me here. Yes, down again I go. Now to my voice lesson and, I don’t know what, but something opens up. My teacher comments on my range, my breath, the depth I’m finding. I hear it too and feel it, perplexed. My voice, all of a sudden deep and rich.

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Back home and I play Chimney Choir (my cousin’s band). Their new album, Ladder. I know I’ve said it, but these guys and gal are brilliant. My feet start tapping on my saltillo tile floor. Nice sound of rubber soles on tile. I tap with Chimney Choir’s Broadway South (track 7 – check it). I dance around my house like a fool. Something’s come loose in me. Enthralled with tapping shoes on tile. Feeling a bit like an Irish stomp dancer. I watch my shadow dance. Why not? Pound the tile floor for a while & get my heart rate up. My house. My feet. My body. Yea. Me. Me.

I pull my guitar out and absolutely find my lungs. Lungs. Man, they make all the difference in singing. I find breath. Lessons paying off. Yes. Laying alone in black on the ocean floor and feeling my depth. Yes. Years of introspection. Yes. It all comes. A shaft of light through darkness. Feels good. But — I don’t know. I think I’ll stay down here in the darkness for a while yet. There’s a richness here. I like to push myself. So, I imagine I’ll resist the rising for a bit yet. I can see the octopus above waiting to pull me up. I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I want to tap my feet on the ocean floor for a while. See my shadow dance in that shaft of light.

I don’t have any pictures from the ocean floor. Only these from the top of the earth. My guess is there is some sort of equivalency….

4 responses to “Shaft of Light

  1. MaryJo, I am living in a house with 7 beehives on our property! I’ve been giving them water.

  2. Hi Mary,

    Remember that Benevolence is guiding you and that it’s impossible to be left in darkness indefinitely. Thank you for your courage.

    Love,
    Your Sis

    • Thanks, Sis, for your sentiments. I appreciate your intent. However, it’s just not how I see it. I am not guided by benevolence. I don’t feel that, I don’t see it. What I see is an octopus above me. What I feel is the weight of the inky ocean upon my chest. I now finally have faith in my own voice and the strength I finally see that I possess. I surrender to infinite black. Infinite. I do not cling to hope or have faith in rising – that would only keep me aloft, when what I want is to sink. Sink into darkness. Feel the descent. Feel alone in it. No one left down here but me. I let other people tell me all my life what was right for me. In my head, I translated that into a strong belief that whatever I thought & felt was wrong. Period. All of it. Wrong. Me – just wrong. I lost myself so completely. And now, now I found myself. And I’ve clawed my way through all of it myself. I stripped layer after layer of nonsense away to find myself. And I found myself in a bee hive. I found myself on top of a mountain in bitter cold and snow. I found myself alone on the earth with the NM sky above me. I found myself in the wilderness with a bear at my camp site. I submit to black, because I can. I go to the depths because I can. No one will follow me here and I’m left to see me. To see myself as I am. -Mar

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