Today the screaming stopped. The room felt different on entry to my adaptive yoga class in a group home. There was a stillness that made me wonder, but I didn’t ask.
Two weeks ago I walked into the same house with the walls vibrating in a scream. I looked into your eyes and wondered what it was like inside that body. I practiced the grounding that had calmed the storm before and after about 15 minutes of screaming and thrashing about a quiet set in. Balance was temporarily restored and even a glimpse of laughter replaced it. Those eyes found focus close to my face. You reached for my pants, and the colors that matched your socks.
You rocked in time to MC Yogi. Oh dear one, you touched my heart.
But today it was quiet, and I see you as this cloud quietly drifting off and away.
Your withered body that no longer wished to eat has released you.
I’m so grateful that I had the chance to find that sweet woman inside the body that seemed so troubling to be inside. You were a gift to my life, and I’m glad I took the time to look beyond the screams.
I’m so blessed to have gazed into your eyes and held your feet and knees in hopes that you would find a little connection.
You were a beautiful gift to me, and I’m lucky that we met.
I love the desert. I love the vast open space and that fixes my internal gaze and stills my wandering mind.
I find expansion in the stones and the dirt. The colors in the rocks and the tiny bursts of plants are vibrant. The plants themselves seem to beat all odds just to come through the rugged ground. The trees twist and turn against the wind, seeking the sun.
Nature so impresses me, I never tire of her announcements to live.
The last time I visited the desert I discovered places where the bones and plants from the Jurassic period were left imbedded in stone to view and to allow my imagination to wander back millions of years. I could almost feel the breath of sauropods on my neck and feel the earth tremble beneath their feet. I wonder if we are making our way toward a vast extinction again.
Who will miss us? Who might just dig us up and place us in museums as a creature of the past?
So, as my inner gaze quiets it begins to burn back in time. I search for meaning in the madness we humans have come to witness as everyday life.
I love the desert