by Silvia Hartmann
Perhaps I tell a story from a very
distant time but not so distant space, from a place that is sufficiently not
like our own to make it relevant and valid, vivid and even green or blue
perhaps, or even ultraviolet, indeed.
A place where beings roam, big, ponderous beings, slow moving across the endless
plains of azure, drifting, shifting awarenesses of purpose and passion quite
unlike whatever we may know or suspect.
These beings are following an ancient route, a pilgrimage as old as dawn of time
itself, they have a purpose in their journey which is all there is and never
does it end, it never rests for such a thought would be unthinkable, insane, and
should it happen that a being lost its way and disconnected from the river of
their pathways, it would wither, parch and die, bewildered, helpless and in
utter chaos of confusion, utter lack of understanding as to what it was without
the river travel and the others of its kind.
But such occurrences are not just rare, they are in fact a never, for this has
not happened since the dawn of time, it never could and never will, and only our
human thoughts could paint a vision of such bleak, unnatural unfoldments - so
let us keep our thoughts at bay!
Let us not bring our species' chaos with us into these extraordinary realms
where only joy and benediction are conceived as every day experiences, and grace
and ecstasy occur just as the bye the bye, expected, gratefully received by all.
We watch the beings, young and ancient, slow and steady as they dance with their
excitement and their purpose power, upon their pathway, weaving slowly to each
other and themselves, each seeking always to enhance the truth of their
connection with the rushing rivers venerated by their footfalls, tapestry
enfoldments glide their smooth and flowing shapes from one becoming to the next,
their vibrant world awareness wide and so expansive, reaching, stretching as
they find the next place that they flow into from one breath to the next, from
one stout beating of their great hearts to the other.
And as we watch them pass on by, we hear their song of many voices, telling
tales and playing with the patterns of the air, re-writing these, inscribing
these with their glad messages in passing, building up a choir and a chorus,
bright and raising resonance that stays right here and waits for more
connections when the beings pass to weave another stage of tapestry, not here
and now, not there, tomorrow, but right forever and a day, a night ...
So rest, be still and sleep now here
amidst the flowing plains and feel their wisdom, listen to their song and we
might learn, or we might simply be amazed.
© Silvia Hartmann 2003