WILDERNESS, S o u t h A f r i c a
The alchemy of nature within and without. I grind the seeds of the past that have sprouted, bloomed, and perished – disintegrated into powdery dust. The composted remnants had shown new signs of life I wasn’t sure I wanted to nurture. A past that needed to be buried, taken by the earth.
I’ve washed the ashy remains of dust into my skin. It’s mingled with sweat; permeated the pores, seeped under layers of protection, creating patterns in my blood, in my bones, in my cells.
Breath expels the tiny flower shoots. I open my mouth to let them out. Tongue, lungs, heart, belly, womb, root release. Hold me as I disappear into dreams of black and white that churn and undulate in different dimensions of being.
Oversoul, carry all of me through the portal and into the cave of mortar and pestle to be stirred and transformed in the darkness.
Hold me through the integration of life and death and the deaths within a life that has been lived in all directions, dimensions, and seasons.
The grieving of leaving places and faces I’ve loved. The glee of traversing continents on trains and spontaneous meetings with souls I’ve met in other lives and realities.
The dust occasionally settles and time heals some wounds but the mortar and pestle are always there if you’re willing to lay on the altar and be consumed by the fire; to look deep into your own eyes and not look away. To remember how flowers are birthed and shells and butterflies. The natural order of remembering, of letting go, of courage, of allowing yourself to be washed down the river and far into a raging sea, allowing the current to take you and show you your vastness.