|
|
I was rescued in Galadriel's Forest yesterday. I felt the elvish voices singing to me, the tall, ancient trees above me, the soft green earth beneath me, and her gentle but piercing elvish touch. I was a warrior, tired from exhertion, weary from my long path. After a lifetime, I was sent on my way. The song must've shifted as I lay on the table. Because then I was in native country, with the ancient ones of my own land. They were humming to me and chanting for me, calling up powers of earth and heaven. I was in a landscape much like "Last of the Mohicans," on a rock on a beautiful cliff face, overlooking wild, old forests. And the healer was holding my spine, my head, my neck, and moving with the pulse and flow and movement just beneath the skin. I felt a history of myself. I breathed with relief and joy as these fingers encouraged my own flow, my own rhythm. It was like suddenly becoming aware of your deepest pulse, your energetic essence moving through you, on levels a thousand times more subtle than your breath. I basked in myself, and I invited everything to flow--the energy moving in and throughout, and the stagnant, diseased pools. I imagined everything flowing like my own miniature rivers, saturating me. To be saturated with health. And with hope. Even for a moment. The tide has turned. I will not go back. I'm already starting to "look back" at all this, something I hardly hoped for at all once, this time last year. "This time last year" recently starts all my speeches with myself and with Scott. Though I'm still surfacing, I'm no longer a bottom-feeder. But the only reason I'm finding my way up now is because of what I learned on my way down. I wish I could've consoled myself with that this time last year. Lymph Drain 2, ck [2004-12-27]
Navigation newest letter | older letters
Last five letters Gathering [2009-09-04] ?2002, Scott & Celeste. |