Between the Bricks

Meanderings of a grown up girl

Month: February, 2013

Do you know you are immortal?

Hit the road running, hit the ground, kick your heels and fly! Let the wind take you wherever you want to go. Have no fear.  Everything has been decided. Ha – nothing has been decided. Nothing is certain, not even this moment, though we live it.

What do you feel? What are you feeling as you float up, up and away? Are you afraid? Why? Are you happy? Why? Do you even know what true happiness is? Do you know the sensation of pure bliss, as it flows through your veins and feeds your soul, giving of life forever? Have you ever experienced true pain, the kind that comes with loss? The loss of a child; the loss of a lover; the loss of identity; of self – the humiliation of self?

You must use your experiences wisely my friend. You have a great advantage you know, for to feel pain is to live and to live is to die and to die is to be immortal.  How foolish we are to dismiss this fact – the very essence of what it is to be human! Why does man shy away from the belief he is immortal? Does he think he has no right to place himself at the right hand of the gods? Oh, foolish creature! The gods are waiting for you to do so! How many chances have you had? How many opportunities must they gift you before you see into the water clearly? What do you want them to tell you? What are you waiting to hear? That you are mites beneath their feet? Then be a mite and forget your very nature! Forget who you are and reap no rewards.

I see clearly now. When the sun rises and warms the heart of us all I feel what it is to know that every cell in my body is alive with love and compassion and power – and the right to define my own future; to shift the earth around me; to be whatever I want to be. I am awake now. I sleep no more! I have left my bed and slumber and dreams behind me. No more dreams. Who needs dreams when we can live them! What are dreams for anyway? To give us the hope of something we have no need for? To send us further and further away from who we are; to create a false world, deepening the illusion we’ve built around us ourselves, these walls, this falsehood? We laugh, we cry, we shout, we scream – and none of it is real. No matter how hard we try through all tempestuous struggles, we cannot make it real. The reality of reality!

Be brave, you mite of the gods, ha ha, be brave! The world is larger than you think. Contrary to belief, it is not yours to own but yours to guard. This world beats far beyond your imagination, and yet, if you do not dare to imagine, you can never beat in tune. That’s the dilemma! You can choose to stand still or you can choose to explore. You can choose to step beyond the familiar into the unknown or simply remain in the mundane. It’s dark at first, without doubt, but the light is waiting for you to discover. Take a peak – it’s just around the corner!

Make me naked

Make me as naked as possible,
For only when I am naked
Am I truly pure.

Passing Through

Watching others being happy always makes me smile. My heart sings to see people laugh.

As I stroll through the Botanical Gardens I come across a large group of men and women singing, clapping and playing what appears to be a Mandarin version of Charades. A company team building event perhaps? Seems to be, as one man in the group is clearly coordinating the game, calling who goes next, ticking names off a list and giving each player a little peak at the title of their ‘charade’. Raucous laughter rings out. The happy shenanigans attracts quite a crowd of amused onlookers, visitors to the gardens who have, like me, stopped to bathe in the group’s enjoyment. It’s infectious. Lighthearted rivalry between the sexes.

As I sit my eyes wander to take in families with small children, singles and couples walking dogs – dogs galore – young lovers holding hands, a beyond elderly lady, spine deeply bent, being pushed in her wheelchair by a dutiful son; a wedding party in the ginger garden restaurant, dressed to the nines, gamely donning masks as no doubt requested on the invitations. Families kick brightly coloured footballs on the spiky grass and young dads teach their young sons how to hold a racket and bat a ball. Prams are pushed and scooters are scooted. 

The air feels light and a cool breeze gently washes over us all. The dusky garden is busy, visited by locals and tourists alike and yet, despite the numbers, the buzz of chatter and laughter and distant voices, the atmosphere is soft, calm and easy. A lovely place and moment in time to find myself. The gardens are serene. The energy feels good. A delicious scent of frangipani wafts through the air. A small water fountain gurgles behind me. This is one of my favourite places.

The light is dimming. I must be on my way. After all, I’m simply passing through.

The Space Between the Bricks

A single tear begins to fall from the child’s eye – her left eye. The right eye is closed.  How can that be? But the child knows not to give away too many tears just now. She will need them later, so now she must choose. She must choose how much to give away and how much to hold back. She cannot afford to be too sad at one time. What good will that do? So, for now, she closes one eye, her right. She will remain quiet. She will allow herself to be soft and gentle. She will not sob out loud as that will only distract the others and she loathes that kind of behaviour in others.

If she could creep into the space between the bricks she would. But she was not created with the body of an ant, only that of a child, and though she is still only four years old, she knows.  She knows about God. She knows about pain. She knows about death – and she knows about ants. She knows what she is not and though at times she is unsure of what she is, she is certain she is not an ant! She is certain because she cannot go where she wants to go – the space between the bricks: the place where she wants to hide.

But – her tears are small. Her tears are like tiny diamonds, tiny drops of early morning dew. Yes, her tears are small!

A single tear begins to fall from the child’s left eye. She reaches up to catch it in her hand and holds it for a moment, not even that, before she opens up her palm and let’s the lone tear fall, slowly, into the space between the bricks.