| Diary Page Seventy |
| I close my eyes, lie down, patiently relax every part of my body. Breathe in...breathe out, there is nothing but this. I see myself now, I am a beam of light, bright yellow, fragile, easily broken, hard to see. I slowly fly out of my bed, out of my room. Down the stairs and past the broken handrail. Above the dirty carpet and out the first door and the second. My enthusiasm deepens, I beam a little stronger now. Above the broken streets, the dark and dying city, toward the coast. Above the sea, racing for the clouds, desperately now, above them, above earth. Across the universe, I stop. Rest in the deceptive warmth of emptiness and space. In this moment, space is all there is. One beam of light in the darkness. I turn to watch the planet I have left behind. And I stay, protected by the warmth of emptiness. No expectations, no regrets, no shame, just warmth. Safe now, I am another beam of light. The first was a shy yellow, but now I want to be a deep, warm mauve. I have to go back. The yellow stays in the warmth of the solitary universe, the mauve rushes to the earth and an unknown future. Through the clouds, across the sea, the sea in torment like me. I stop on a quiet street, in a quiet neighborhood, I stop in the most important place of all...my future home. Warm tones throughout, a small house, a simple one-story. A lovingly tended garden in the front. Who lives here? I do, twenty years from now. I'm scared to knock, I don't want to break the peaceful urgency of this moment, yet I don't know what intensity waits behind the heavy oak door. But I do knock, and there I am. A simple hello Dani. And I am still short, twenty years in the future. My hair is longer, but it's not snazzy and jazzy and modern. It's just soft, and so is she. Soft, and warm and her eyes shout the invitation her mouth barely whispers. My mouth, and it's a smiling one. There are no words. I just enter the house. She leaves, to get me a drink. So I am hospitable in the future. Small fireplace, huge comfy couch, the kind that swallows you up. A sculpture or too, a brown and taupe and tan interior. Windows, everywhere. I never thought I'd have so many windows. What's a private person doing with these big windows? But the view, the view is spectacularly comforting. Behind the little house, there is a small lake, and beyond the lake of my dreams, there is a small forest with tiny blades of grass and graceful trees, and behind the small forest? A giant sky. It's too much for now, I turn away. Around the room, above the fireplace. Photographs. A soft, kind man, all I see are his smiling mouth and gentle eyes. This is our world, our home. But right now, it's just me and her. I have questions for her when she comes back. Many questions. Why do I lie? How will I cope with the problem of self-discipline (the lack)? What is one thing that I should know? She does not rush to give me answers. Then they come. To stop lying I will realize that there is no need to build an impression, there is no Danielle I must create for others to accept. In the moment of interaction, I do not have to create, I have only to listen, to embrace. I think to myself that a genuine connection creates itself. I think to myself that maybe they don't care so much how I impress upon them. They care to impress upon me. I think to myself that I may try reflecting that, embracing the impression, embracing them. She says I don't need to care so much about disciplining myself. She wants me to think about simplifying myself, my expectations. I know what she means. I can see she is the embodiment of enthusiastic complexity on the inside. So she makes her peace in the world around her. I think to myself that I don't have to do it all, I don't have to be everything I ever imagined. I think to myself that I don't need a world as complex and chaotic as I am on the inside. I need balance. Will making life simpler make life easier to embrace? Will I no longer need to destroy myself and self-flagellate? And then she tells me what I most need to know. She tells me to embrace life. Embrace every moment, this day, this world. Embrace the sensations, the people, my feelings, my imagination, the connections between them all. I feel what she is saying. Let them wash over me and be content. Live in the tormented flow of life, let it surge around me. Direct it and turn it when need be, but only by embracing it first. Embrace every moment and especially this one, embrace every day and especially this one. Then she gives me the first gift. She lets me live inside of her for a moment. What is it like to be my future self? I am shocked by the calmness. I see myself there on the couch, tense and anxious and rather disheveled. I want to embrace that girl, me, hug her, hold her, lift her soul. I want to calm her with the simplest of ideas: Her life will be beautiful. I know this now, because I am her, twenty years from now. I walk in my new, older body. Languidly stroll, never in a rush. I feel so...warm. And content. I feel an heavy, strong joy, deeper than emotion. I love every moment. Some part of me always loves every moment, even the most painful. I feel for my energy, my strength, where does it come from? There, below my breasts. Always warm, buoyant energy flowing through me, out of me. I am ready to return to myself, the past. I take with me her second gift, her energy. What do they call her? She says that people call her Lady. Little children and old men. Strangers and her dearest lover. She is their Lady. I can see why. She is the epitome of everything a Lady is thought to be. She is graceful, calm, rich of emotion, generous of spirit. Lady gives me one more present...a photograph of the meadow and the pond behind her home, at sunset. She says that this is Home, and when I look on it I will always be home. I leave Lady, the keeper of my soul. I, the mauve beam of light, back across the universe, I find the shy and fragile yellow beam. We are a unique combination, a dual rainbow flying back to earth. We don't want the emptiness of space, we are warm inside of us, and we are ready to find that warmth in our world. Quickly but not rushed. Through the clouds, across the sea, the sea at night, calm now. Over the coast, through a dark and dying city, above the broken streets. Through the second door, and then the first. Up the stairs, to our body. Crying joyful tears for the first time in my life. |
| Still April 2, 2007 - Recklessly abandoning myself before you... |