Birth

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I am everthing , all colors laying open like the blue sky softening into grey shadows of a thousand doves . I am dolphin , ocean , plant and the knot in my throat unravels like the path of that wind , making rustles so gorgeous that it unites my voice , the eternal song into a sob . I am traveling to the land of the living where every tear is wiped away and I will taste the goodness of the waters .

I died today in a fetal position . Just before , the rain came in my window and a fox laid down next to my bed . Did you know that the scent of birth and death are exactly the same … rivers and mushrooms , pomegranate and musk . What’s that strange music I hear , wonderful music , is it the voice of God , of nature , a differant civilization with no sentimental wails ? Gratefulness like sea anenomes of terrestrial flowers take away the lingering memories of why , why brokenness , devastation , cruelty , suffering , fear and hatred . All my pain is transformed and not transmitted in this new orbit . I’ll never hear another wrong note because the opera of eternity is perfection , harmony and melody a pure beauty with rain drops glistening on all of us … every one of us . We are everything . The red fruit bursting open with a fullness , a membranous chamber of juicy red pulp and white seeds . Our bleeding hearts , our rotting livers , the cells of our brains , the aches of our muscles – no more ! How many hearts with red blood in them are beating undercover of the woods . How many eyes and teeth are shining . One world leads to the next .

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The stillness of life’s memories is at once awful and sublime and every leaf seems to speak . I’m invited to come forth from behind the shadowy back to the table of the Great Creator . It is set with my grandmothers golden glass wine decanter gleaming where it once sat in front of her cut glass window only now there are two Suns , everything prettier in this light . And a bouquet of yellow from the forsethia bushes I once picked with my mother . And look , snow is falling and there is the Christmas tree I painted onto the wall one year because it was too cold to go out and chop one down to bring inside . Sitting , is my uncle , my poor uncle who hung himself in grandpas horse barn and he is wearing wet shoes and holding a lighted candle . He’s not mad , he has faith . What does faith mean ? We don’t know what madness is . . . they’re alone but certainly closer to the truth . Love goes hand in hand with suffering . The wide benevolent hand of the Divine is holding mine now . I remember the first time I heard the Beatles , ” I Want to Hold Your Hand ” . It was 1963 and I was 12 . Everything happened to me when I was 12 . We grow unevenly , partially , past , present , future , made up of cells , constellations , rocks , the sounds of roses , a mystic force growing , changing form and always life’s sparkling smile catching our eyes .

I see all my friends with open hands waving back and forth , back and forth . They suspect that I haven’t told them the whole story of my life but it really doesn’t matter anymore . I see Joe Cocker crying and singing , ” You Are So Beautiful ” and Rembrandt next to him painting his self-portrait with shaded eyes . And there’s Lawrence of Arabia too and my dad riding a bike that goes backwards and a new cloud rolling in from the stratosphere , birds in formation , white-tailed deer , mockingbirds and four different shaped leaves all on the same tree . We are on a revolutionary road together in this multiverse where I can glimpse the end of it ahead just before it turns into a rolling valley of larkspur with a strange window appearing where rain pecks at the glass like small curious hungry birds and within and beyond , a room that is beyond the great sea .” I blow kisses to the telephone polls because they look so lonely .” ( stockdalewolfe.com 1-13-15) The day is immense , expanding and shrinking at will and there , there is the lighthouse at the end of the world .

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I see my grandchild turning in his sleep . A wind wraps itself around his blanket and lays it down in the long grass that is green and soft – lays it down completely . There are ditches full of water and leaves , a world that curves away further than you can ever see and even what is left of daylight seems reluctant to leave . He sleeps until his little body , like the light , wakes on its own . Great Spirit , you have given me things that won’t get lost . Do you know how it feels to be loved by God ?

I see my childhood hiding spot that called to me like nothing else and I want to kneel in worship for the comfort it once gave me . But now I kneel in humbleness as I see to the very bottom of things , all things . Earths depths are 1800 phantoms . I am with the drowned sailors who crave the unknown . What glories do the whales pursue ? I know it is an emotional encounter to recognize the call of another you’ve never met and to hear the history you share in their song – the mournful alleluia sound of bagpipes in the deep . Do you know why they’re in the water … they want to live a long time .

I see the river , the mountain . It’s nice here . The fox lays next to my body now , an angelic being opens my gown and a thousand starlings fly out from it . . . a feather falls away to the earth over there and a child that was me picks it up , my mother is playing Beethoven on her piano and God , well God has taken away all my shame . . .

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Photos by Denise Thomasin Photography … ( my daughter )

Billy Joel – ” Goodnight my Angel “

48 thoughts on “Birth

  1. wow – this is such deep, emotional story to share . You made me cry while reading the story and understand your hidden words and meanings. I am out of words…Bravo!!

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    • Julie … Just before I wrote this a different feeling came over me and this flowed quickly into these words and I would like to give praise to that creative and divine spirit that resides in each of us … so much love to you Julie

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  2. Wow! The “sound” of your writing, with its tone and rhythm alone “feels” like one is dying, one is past the end of life, one has moved on into another “self” and something new has emerged in its “form” in its “life.” And all of your “nouns” they are indeed remnants of meanings of secret hidden past “worlds.” Truly beautiful! This brought me to that space, that space that is within me. And now i will read again to hear it all running through me as a “story.” And it will be different somehow. Not within but without and all around.

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    • Dear daughter … All my writings are for you and your siblings And your children and grandchildren … your photos here have your soul in them and I believe they manifested something ( don’t know the word ) into this writing …I’m so grateful to know that you understand … Xxx

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  3. Reblogged this on 21 Shades of Blue and commented:
    Another lovely story that I’m happy to Reblog and share Meg! I caught some familiar references, including your saying
     
     
    “We grow unevenly , partially , past , present , future , made up of cells , constellations , rocks , the sounds of roses , a mystic force growing , changing form and always life’s sparkling smile catching our eyes .”
     
     
    …which I think was possibly alluding to what is actually one of my favorite quotes that has helped me show more grace to myself in my weaknesses at times, by Anaïs Nin:
     
     
    “We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”
     
     
    …both quotes, your post as a whole, and the photos of your daughter, reminded me of my favorite Bring Me The Horizon music video and lyrics below to their song “Sleepwalking” (in prose-form, with repeat choruses taken out):
     
     
    “My secrets are burning a hole through my heart and my bones catch a fever… When it cuts you up this deep, it’s hard to find a way to breathe. Your eyes are swallowing me. Mirrors start to whisper, shadows start to sing. My skin’s smothering me. Help me find a way to breathe… Time stood still, the way it did before. It’s like I’m sleepwalking… Fell into another hole again — It’s like I’m sleepwalking. I’m at the edge of the world… Where do I go from here? Do I disappear? Edge of the world! Should I sink or swim? Or simply disappear? Wake up! Take my hand and give me a reason to start again. Wake up! Pull me out and give me a reason to start again! Time stands still (Time stands still).”
     
     

     
     
    You writing
     
     
    “I see my grandchild turning in his sleep . A wind wraps itself around his blanket and lays it down in the long grass that is green and soft – lays it down completely . There are ditches full of water and leaves , a world that curves away further than you can ever see and even what is left of daylight seems reluctant to leave . He sleeps until his little body , like the light , wakes on its own . Great Spirit , you have given me things that won’t get lost . Do you know how it feels to be loved by God ?”
     
     
    …reminded me of my favorite Keaton Henson music video and lyrics to his song “You” below (also in prose-form):
     
     
    “If you must wait, wait for them here in my arms as I shake. If you must weep, do it right here in my bed as I sleep. If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above. If you must mourn, don’t do it alone. If you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet. If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique. If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life’s best part. And if you must die, remember your life… You are. You are. Oh, you are. You are, oh… If you must fight, fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night. If you must work, work to leave some part of you on this earth. If you must live, darling one, just live. Just live. Just live.”
     
     

     
     
    …That quote about your grandchild also brought to mind a dream diary post I made on February 8, 2014 that was set to private until a few minutes at http://21shadesofblue.com/2014/02/08/dream-diary-entry-0002-night-before-02082014-waking-up-as-a-child-in-the-future/ that you might enjoy reading because of the weird factor of your post being a narrative, and my sharing my thoughts on my dream, mentioning another dream where I said “I think I had a dream last night where I was reading part of a story based on someone like me, where the character was narrating that he used to listen to meditation tapes of rain falling to relax and brainstorm. Maybe I didn’t read it in a dream, though I have often read and written things in dreams. It’s impressed very strongly on my mind right though, though where the memory is coming from for sure is unclear…” as reading your narratives sometimes feel to me like I’m reading a narrative of my dreams, as I’ve alluded to you in previous comments!

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    • Cyan … “All is One ” … You leave me speechless once again at the connections found in who you are within my writings … Your thoughts and the music you chose to share is deeply appreciated ( thank you ) and so interesting the Anais Nin quote which must have been long in my memory as I read her many years ago …I wonder sometimes even if there is a difference between reality and dream . Perhaps there is no edge to eternity ( Sleepwalking lyrics ) … Just live , just live Cyan , beautiful Cyan … Blessings always … xxx

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  4. You have a way of blending beauty and sorrow like no other. Your post is a journey. ” it is an emotional encounter to recognize the call of another you’ve never met and to hear the history you share in their song”. Simply beautiful, Meg. Bravo.

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  5. Some how montages paint in ways between today and memory, living and falling behind, only to catch up again to remind us why moments colour differently, but to still be alive inside carried melodies. The above and previous post, find me stumbling through my own montages, looking for the parts perhaps a little forgotten and faded on the clothes line beneath a fresh sun, or damp from night’s fallen dew under an old moon. It gets one thinking about each hour’s flower and how we carry time inside our hearts.

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    • Yes , Sean … You express this wondering so beautifully … Your presence here enriches and always inspires and I am always so grateful dear man of poetry and soul … blessings xxx

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  6. Beautiful, Meg. We each have a place deep within, a secret we and we alone share with our Creator, a truth that is also somehow a power, a place we can’t quite manage to tell our friends about no matter how we try or how they think they wish to understand its presence within us. Yet here, in these words and images– in the interweaving of mother and daughter, uncle and grandmother, fox and whale– you have invited us in somehow, given a glimpse into what is at your center that has reminded us that we all have such a place within. I leave here feeling like my capacity to carry my own heart has increased, like you have shown me how to see– really see— this world and its timeless, whirling passage.

    I loved the line, “Great Spirit , you have given me things that won’t get lost.” I can’t bear to read that one without sitting down, and if I’m sitting down, without being blown into the trees outside my window… When I come back, there is a tear in the corner of my eye. Just as I return, it falls…

    Michael

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  7. My throat is constricted into the lump you know so well… And your vision of transcendence is a journey to behold… A memorising read Meg.. I am so pleased you called by today and I am even more pleased I had time to back track to some posts I had missed..

    Love and Blessings ❤

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  8. An apology : to Ellen at stockdalewolfe for not originally giving her credit for a sentence I used from her beautiful blog that I follow …I am truly sorry and have added proper quotation marks and will certainly be more mindful and respectful in the future …. Thankyou Ellen for this meaningful lesson …xxx

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  9. Thank you, Megekorne. I appreciate the attribution. All is forgiven– a good lesson to me as well. It truly was a gorgeous post. I truly loved it. I felt high from the language and imagery. Just was taken aback at the one sentence. xx ellen

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