Walking into the storm
head facing forward
typhoon fever pitched
determined feet rapidly burning
the cracked pavement
to stare a perching bird
in the eye
on the healing spirit
There are times we all feel the monkey on our back. Maybe we put it there, flipping it up as we were too busy with life. It became more and more burdensome, weighing us down as we carried it around. Tried as we might, we couldn’t pry it off because it clung with a mighty grip and our back became the perfect ride.
There were days we knew it was there even though looking over our shoulder it was impossible to see. But we could feel it’s little fingers scratching at our skin making it crawl. It would make weird monkey noises close to our ear so only we could hear and we would think: I must be crazy.
For years it rode like this, perched on top of us, hitching this endless ride. Until one day we realize it’s a burden to drag along this nuisance, this unwanted tag along. We think maybe we can ditch it, throw it off somewhere and let it find its own way.
Reaching around isn’t easy, and getting it to let go is no simple task. The monkey hangs on for dear life. But finally we can grab it by the tail and rip it off. It’s easy to fling it into the forest somewhere, hoping it will find a monkey family.
And now, for the first time in a long time we can stand up. Our back feels light. We walk down the road now, unencumbered and free. But we are ever diligent for primate hitch hikers.
In a snowy globe
or fanciful place
encased in glass
Where snowflakes shake
they tumble past
In this small igloo
my hands are pressed
against this captive cage
As the world goes by
my heart beats bird-like
in my fluttering chest
While my nose against
this world is cold
and closely pressed
Outside it seems to me
that all is going well
they come and go
in pairs or more
while I stand inside
without a door
This globe is closed
but it is clear
I see the world
but I am here
Maybe there will be a day
when where I live will vanish
It will shake
and snow will swirl
but then the globe will fall
And when it does
the glass will crack
and down will come my wall
Last night I was visited by two Golden Unicorns. Interestingly I never knew that such a thing existed until I read about them the next day. They were agitated when I saw them, and surrounded by a glowing light, as though it was just after a storm and the sun was about to come out from behind a cloud. I believe it was a male and female, but I’m not sure how I know this…I just did. And somehow, I was there to help them. They ran to and fro as I watched them.
They are drawn to gardens I read (but I did not know prior), and there was a woman too that I met. She was quirky and fey, in a greenhouse type structure, but outside too. This woman, with grayish hair, was moving plants from this large garden, from one pot to another. She was making more plants. I was hoping to apprentice with her.
It was a busy area, with many people, almost like a fair. I kept noticing people I knew from the past and present walking by me.
But the unicorns captured my attention. No-one else seemed to notice them. Maybe they were there for my eyes only. Their sighting brings me hope and delight. I know it means good things are in store for me. While it was a bit disturbing that they were upset, I hope I was there to help them too. And together we helped each other.
While I was meditating on their visit this morning, I recalled this piece of pottery that I found years and years ago. I’ve carried it around with me all this time…
Peace be with the Golden Unicorns…
There are some folks that search for buried treasure. Some of that treasure may be from sunken ships from long ago that legend tell tales of gold and jewels that went down with these vessels. Divers search and may come up with some beauties, or may find only fish and wood in the depths of ocean, or maybe nothing at all. But it might be the journey alone that draws these seekers, the hope of treasure and wealth and a visit into the past.
I’ve read of current day treasure hunts: wealthy men hiding trunks of money and producing hints with maps given in books that hungry hunters must purchase in hopes of finding the loot. Is it bunk and a lucky gent making his own treasure on unsuspecting innocents, or is there really something hidden waiting for some brilliant detective who can unlock the key?
For me the buried treasure is of a different kind. It’s not material. In fact, I’ve been making efforts to rid myself of material goods, including ones of “value”. What is value anyway but what it means to someone. True, gold and diamonds have value if one tried to sell them in our market, but even these go up and down in price and they can sometimes cost so much they become: invaluable. Museums must hold onto pieces that are such treasures as to become priceless.
No, things are no longer what I am pursuing, but still my treasures have been buried. I’ve felt rather like some great explorer that has gone on a long expedition to some unheard of place to find my gems. The natives were not always hospitable and the climate often harsh. The tools I brought with me I found, at times, were primitive and didn’t quite do the trick as I tried to dig and dig to find this deeply hidden trunk of goods.
The maps I had were often handed to me by people who had no idea where I needed to be or what I was looking for; they were crude and often in a language I did not understand. So I tossed them aside and plunged on, sometimes through jungle brush, other years in desert heat sucking the water out of my pores. But I knew if I kept going, eventually I would find the goods.
There were years that I walked in circles. And sometimes I would just lay down and cry. Sometimes I had the strength of a tiger and the eyesight of an eagle, feeling like I was closer and closer. But then the treasure would slip away and I would have to start again.
I’ve learned over the years now, that the maps I needed were with me written in an invisible ink only I could read. They were my maps to find my treasures. When I looked really closely, I noticed that the path lead me through all those places I had gone: the jungles and deserts and around and around–it’s where the trail led, I just hadn’t seen it before now. None of it was by accident.
And all the people I met along the way, they were in the Legend of the map, part of landscape I was meant to wander on path to the treasure. In fact, when I squinted just right, I saw that I actually had found treasure in each of these villages! There were markings showing that’s where some of the jewels were: the people, even the ones I thought were hostile had given me something I didn’t know, a tiny gem of knowledge.
But after walking, searching and following this map–and scrutinizing it carefully, I saw something that brought wonder to me. It appeared I was coming very close to the buried treasure that I had been chasing for so long. Maybe I’m only steps away now it seemed. The map showed it was at the center of everything: bright and brilliant, overflowing with energy.
I’m almost there now. The treasure. My treasure, buried–inside of me.