“Well we have seen the other side and it is greener”

I got a bit tired of the studio over the last few months, but lately again and especially coming home tonight after five nights away, it is my own oasis and within these four walls utterly me, and I do love it.

San Francisco. The henna is still fresh and dark, my heart and body deeply rejuvenated from the trip and full of love, and now exhaling with gratitude to be in quiet solitude again. The last couple months were so driven and stressful, I feel I got spit out of a vortex to find the other side spacious and wholing and laughing, and honest in movement. Inside me and in the world, the first stirrings of the fabulous summer I’ve felt coming.

Kree, the henna artist from the fair last Summer, picked me up in Oakland on Friday morning and we drove to Sebastapol to stay with her brother and his wife. All afternoon there, I kept being surprised by reminders of Mom: they have the same quilted Hawaiian hangings; the same weird plates; the same painting in the living room as hung in Mom’s living room while I was in high school. The quilt on the bed I slept on was the same rainbow quilt of Mom’s that’s meant so much to me and is on my own bed, except bolder colors. That night, I had the first Mom dream in a while:

May 1
I’m with Mom, staying at a house like Gramma’s house on Pageantry. After a lot of busyness and commotion, we sit crosslegged and facing each other on a big white bed, talking. We talk about how glad we are, and I am, to be staying over with her. She says that something in my spirit just reached out and said — my arms flung wide, smiling — “Let me stay over!” I remember a scene from earlier in the afternoon, when I was sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. “Was that when you reached out and touched me through the car window?” Yes. My spirit reached out to her as she reached out to me from outside the window. Mom is pleased, moved to tears, her hands to her face. We embrace and hug each other close. My left had cradles her head, and my thumb rests in the hollow of her ear. There is a strong wind outside, through the window, and we start to remember things to do, things undone, things I have to show her. Still hugging, we start to feel an unsettling heat — I feel it strong at my lower back, growing stronger and stronger so that finally we pull apart, saying in a low rising wailing voicie, Fire….we kind of spin as we separate, and I look for where the fire is — there, a small fire in the corner on the carpeted floor.

About the thumb resting in the ear — at the airport in Oakland I was waiting in line to buy an iced coffee. The girl in front of me had piercings, a little silver ball nestled there in the cup of each ear. I said to her, “I like your earrings. They’re like little pearls in the shell of your ear.” She smiled and said, “Yeah! That’s the idea.”

After the festival, I made friends with a group of two guys and a girl about my age. The girl was supposed to help me find a ride back the next day, out of the kindness of her dear trumpet-playing heart. Instead, though, I fell into a beautiful fling with one of the friends, a beautiful boy, who happened to be driving back to Berkeley that night and possessed of a very big, very nice bed. Strong and smart and caring and a curly dirty blond with lightning blue eyes who knows how to dance. Yes please. And thank you (come again). He dropped me off at the gloriously sunny part in San Francisco and went on his merry way. The city was a solid day and night of warmth and food and charm and old friendships renewed and bright bay windows in the morning.

So for May Day, not only did I get a dream of fire, but a literal festival bonfire and a shining man to celebrate it with. How traditional of me.

I come home full of love for Amy and all our sharing, and as soon as I tell her about my fling I can see by her smile that in her queenly fashion she is actually happy for me. She smiles at me like I’ve always wanted someone to smile at me. And we go on our merry way.

Not even that the way is merry, but deeply loving, and to find that deep love reciprocal out in the world and be able to share it at home has me feeling gratefully merry for now.

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~ by Arrrow Marie on May 5, 2010.

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