Brain Washed - part deux
Sunday, November 7, 2010 at 2:56 PM As I look at the list of things I’d like to remember, there is a theme that runs through my memory beginning with the sun on my skin and ending with the weight of heartache. Warmth is the word that comes to mind…and Sensual.
I am a sensual being. I cannot live – truly live – (nor would I care too) without the memory of my senses – the sun on my skin, the hot breath of my old Golden Retriever, the cozy comfort of a warm bed when the nip of winter pricks at my nose.
I am a being who loves to spread her arms – her angel’s wings – wide open, embracing and welcoming adventure and creativity. Near the top of my list is my trilogy of pilgrimages – Paris, Ireland, Egypt. Each came wrapped in its own shimmering tissue paper, waiting to unfold with unique footsteps along my path.
Who knew I was a woman craving warmth? Is that what passion evokes in me? Heat? The feel of the desert air upon my Pacific Northwest skin. The allure of Parisian cafes and language dripping in romance. The warmth of a pint of Guinness sipped from a frothy mug in a cozy tavern surrounded by laughter and friends.
Heat draws me forth and pushes me outside myself. It beckons me toward the core of my being which is hot as fire. A shimmering star. Fully me – laughing and shining. Can warmth get any broader than that?
Heat draws me forth and pushes me out. The blood rising in my chest and pumping at rapid speed through my veins while standing in the open door of an airplane at 10,000 feet. “Do or die,” my heart says. I feel the breeze on my skin, whoosh of air rushing at the speed which keeps an airplane afloat. My senses expand and it’s time to trust. “Bend like a banana,” says my hunkie angel and the blood rushes from my face as we free-fall in the autumn air. All senses are alert. The arms of God are holding me now. The taste of fear has left my mouth. The whoosh is all I hear. My skin is brushed with evening sunlight and my eyes take in the Washington panorama with rapid-speed slow motion. I am a sensual woman.
What of the other things on my list? Humidity and heartache. Sand and sea. Parenting and pendulum. My list is made of senses and experiences, not necessarily people and places. Hmmmm. I am not a collector of things – not a material girl as Madonna might suggest. I love experience. I love heat. I am not afraid to walk into fire. These are the things I can write about, because I have been present to them. I’ve shown up for my life – not always, for sure – but perhaps that is why the experiences are so important to remember. Perhaps that is my legacy. I want them written down, because I don’t want to forget. That was the prompt after all, wasn’t it? Your memory will be erased in 5 minutes. So, if I remember…
the sun on my skin then I will always know what it is to be warm. If I remember the kiss of my husband, the hugs of my children and my sister’s unconditional love, then they will be with me always. To remember the Sinai desert is to speak of clarity and timelessness. Paris offers rhythm and independence. Ireland teaches me what it is to heal. The ineffable moments speak of a power greater than I – shall I call this God, Universe, or something more?
Curry’s breath and Aslan’s purr show me the wisdom of being in the moment and the power to simply Be. Knowing my truth lets me rest in that being, if only for nana-seconds that speak of an all-knowing One. The drop of the skydive shows me that fear can be faced and turned into exhilarating joy and power. The ocean on my skin, sand in my toes and Bermuda blue offer tranquility and calm with just a touch of unsurety.
Humidity in Oklahoma, mosquito bites and climbing Mt. Sinai, all share a measure of pain, but without that pain I would not be who I am today. And, speaking of pain comes with the reality of childbirth and the heartache of parenting – the arrest of a child, the separation from a soul mate.
My coffers are full and the pendulum swings from joy to sorrow and back again. Light turns to darkness. Fear turns to self-love. The senses wrap me in life. If this is what I could remember, it would be enough – more than enough.
So, have you made your own list yet? Quick... your memory will be erased in five minutes, what will you choose to remember?
soulcollage cards ©ksh
Reader Comments (6)
Yes, you are a woman who knows herself! Powerful description and it's why I (we) love you.
Thanks for the reminder to be AWAKE.
Great post. Your collages are wonderful.
hmmbrd - i LOVE seeing you here. awake is a grand place to live - never easy, but often grand :) xo
thanks, maureen. soulcollage® continues to be a great way to express myself. are you joining in the online advent event?
You are wise indeed to remember the sad and the painful along with the exhilirating and sweet. We are the sum of all and who is to say which is the more significant?
I think I tried a bit of soulcollage during the recent Way of the Monk course with Abbey of the Arts. Mine are nowhere as good as yours, but my collection of magazine images is not as all that good. Mine are funnier, though. ;)
thanks, barbara. i agree with the wisdom of including the bitter alongside the sweet. they definitely make up the entirety.
Rich with content, food for thought, self-awareness - both your writing and your collaging:)
xoxox