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Published: June 30th 2006
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Half Passed Ten
I rose to see the moon, the fireworks, the evening settling over my mind. Put a smile on my face. I'm home, I have a job. I have family and friends within my life, there when needed, when lonely or drained, when sucked like a Pixie Stick of all the juices that would otherwise bring a sweet flavor to life. And then the memories, the floods and torrents of the moments in the past that brought me to where I am today. I know I haven't lost them, or slipped on that large, wild banana peel placed before me by the callings of everyday life.
I am here, present, but distant in thoughts where I see the future lilting in the dreams I once yearned for.
I am here, yet I am not, mesmerized by the smiles and the laughs, the strange enriched situations where the others and I are filled with nothing but comfort, security, life and Love.
It is a circumstance of rollicky play, freedom from these daily dallies, these jumping-bean urges to let it all go since it never really mattered, and never will. It will come, be gone, and then something else will arise with the strengthening of I, of my environment, of the readiness of my Soul
Hidden Pearls
The Pearls are never hidden, one just needs fresh eyes and a new perspective to see them on the surface. and the rest of the Universe. Timed Perfection.
Fast Forward would be beautiful, but I don't want that. I know that this moment is overflowing with the lessons I need, the lessons of our human family, wherein, if we all work together, we will see the lithesome quality of this illusion and have the courage to change it. We will rise using the weapon of Truth to move on.
And that place where I continue to move toward, a place I see our whole race moving toward, is the meaning to love unconditionally, to pass through and give all the care and nurturing we contain within ourselves to others as if it were something we were to lose. The truth is, we have never lost it, we have never misplaced or misused it. It has been hidden since the time we were young and crazy, free and wild, happy to run naked through a sunny park without being embarrassed or ashamed.
I've turned 22 years old, but I feel, or shall I say I felt 15...14...going down to 13 and 12. Maybe even 8 years old when I was a chubby lump of mayhem raised by a
Walking His Beach
There's something about coming out of the water, soaked and spent in the salt of the sea. You walk away ready to walk again. single mother who worked herself to the ground with a fulltime job and two children...talk about young and crazy.
I've turned 22 years old, but I have to remind myself that I am not that age, nor will I ever be. I am ageless; the youthfulness of my heart and soul is where this freedom is encapsulated. And that's where I choose to live from, this center, this heart-spoken source where no matter how many things I experience, how many people I speak with, how many hours I work and the number of pages I write and frames I snap, I will always be young, alive, at peace and filled with Love.
But what I have discovered is in order to grow deeper into this wellspring of Love and Peace, I must give it, give it unconditionally whether serving tables, pouring my inspiration into the words I write, or letting my heart do the talking in conversation. It has to be given. It's banging at my chest, filling me with a shuddering urge to rip my life apart to only give this Love, this Peace, this force within all people and all life that is growing and growing,
La Push's Past
Last summer this trunk rested elsewhere, but over the winter the storms brought it to La Push, uprighted it and made it appear as though it grew for centuries right on the beach. and growing and growing throughout the world. Nothing else matters. Nothing ever did. Only this Love and its unprecedented will to be shared and given like a breeze through a summer’s field.
Traveling brought me a sense of this utter vulnerability to share that that is most shunned in ordinary society. I held hands with little children, with men and women because it felt good, because it was unconditional Love. I gave my attention to beggars on the streets as if they were neighbors. I gave my support to friends who had nothing but themselves and memory of a distant Motherland. I fed those who were hungry and I accepted the everyday gifts from strangers, whether it was a comment, a question, a small crystal heart that read "Love is the Way", or whether it was a smile, eye contact, and a broadened smile.
It was Love.
My dream to give it randomly, spontaneously, freely—my dream was being lived.
Now, returned, I seek to become naked again, a new exposure of my heart and soul intermixed with the life surrounding me in these "ordinary, day to day" situations where familiarity is my best friend.
There is
Crouching Freedom
Crouched and caught in the river. Let go, I keep reminding my Self. Let go. work; it sucks at me—my Pixie Stick about empty.
There is the self-discipline to write, to photograph, to practice with consistency a form of yoga and meditation.
There is the need for spontaneity. It is I. It is a must that has been denied.
So I took off. I said screw it to the things that should be done, the phone calls attended to and the dishes in the aluminum sink. It was 10:30 in the morning. I had just woken up—sleeping in and sleeping away all that I could—and I left, packing a tent, sleeping bag, clothes and a surfboard. I had my music. I had the amenities. I had this source of Love within me needing to be shaken and freed in an environment permitting. I drove off.
Three hours later, through the winding curves of Highway 101 westbound, underneath a sun as my left arm hung out an open window, I cut through the last remaining forests of the Olympic National Park and opened out into a view of the Pacific Ocean. It was churning, chopped like fine Chinese Suey, and it beckoned me as a little boy in search of mystery.
A tent, a surfboard, a book, and a naked body in the sun with few beachcombers, I was where I was, where I needed to be at that precise moment. I was naked again of any responsibility; the sole one being present and in love with the environment which surrounded me. That was my responsibility.
I was satisfied, but the longer I stayed, the more I became sucked into the environment. I wanted to share this. I want to give just what I was giving, just what I was receiving, to others.
This is my present circumstance. This is my reasoning for writing, photographing, for traveling, for serving. This is I, my Life, my yearning to be present—to give.
May I open my heart wider and surrender to this space unfathomable to give my heart and soul to those in need, those willing and looking to receive. May I be naked evermore in order to be available to the Love within me, flowing through me, surrounding me and making up all the experiences I face. May I be.
Put a smile on my face. I am living a dream.
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Barbara Gilday
non-member comment
Welcome home
Dear Soul, So glad, so glad to hear your cyber voice again....to feel the freshness of your views, insights, reflections.......to see the images that inspire and speak to deeper levels. Welcome home, dear soul. Welcome home.