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 .
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 .
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 . . .
Photos by Denise Thomasin Photography … ( my daughter )
Billy Joel – ” Goodnight my Angel “