I met with an older friend for lunch, and went about my usual ramble with unusual restraint because I recently discovered the significance of narration. I wanted to look through his eyes instead of tell him my view, since I have seen all I could see with my own. I spoke of hopeless and an estranged life, and he spoke of the balance of greater things. I felt so safe in a view which encompassed many sorrows and joys into one story of peace, and a victor. The wisdom that comes from age is too often neglected; it is shelter in a storm.
I went to the beach today, driving up highway 1 north of Santa Cruz. The sky looked unusually large above the freeway, the clouds were majestic and I learned their names. The big white fluffy clouds are Cumulus, the white and dark clouds are Cumulonimbus, and Nimbus are the dark stormy clouds. I thought that it must have reflected God's heart because I once could not believe He had room for me there. While we were quiet in the car listening to the synthetic beat of the music, I remembered the times I had buried myself into a cave of illusions. Raves, they called them, where the music and drugs would artificially weave a harmonious state of mind into the collective conscious and overheated bodies melted deliriously in the corners of the room. There was a deep, subconscious belief that we had to escape reality to experience peace, love, unity, and respect.
We wondered how long it would take to ride the 1 all the way down to Socal as we sliced through the fog that hung so carefully in the trees.
Davenport.
Nimbus clouds were hanging ominously over the distant sea, and two great birds were floating still in the air. There was no other reason for them to be outstretched in the wind, in the same spot for the half hour we were there, except for sport. We huddled in a blanket for warmth but the distant Nimbus clouds had arrived to a spot over us and began to water us furiously. On our way back, we found a hole in the wall Mexican place that was actually a deep cavern for happy hour and I took two shots of tequila for the sake of having no occasion and that it was Wednesday and I'm not employed, dammit. The bartender had deep blue eyes like the beach and talking to her was like splashing in them.
Small group was pleasant because a song was birthed out of a prayer for our brother and the fullness of Spirit was aching to fill him. He was in France for business school and the prestige and academic pressure was depriving him of sleep and community. We let the Spirit express itself through song to feed a hungry orphan. I wish we could have let himself respond with the tears he held back but he was rushed off to another meeting.
The next activity was making collages, and we revisited our 5 year old inner child as we cut and pasted magazine pictures, singing childhood songs and making fun of each other. Children are usually very confident, because they know who they are. It is very powerful in its purity, to simple BE. It is the strongest force in the world to Be Yourself As You Are.
Each person presented in front of the whole group and I was amazed at the depth of each person's soul, although perhaps it wasn't so apparent to anyone else. I was ashamed of mine until it was on display and I had little to say, but everyone came in to fill the silence with their depictions. "You're close to the source of Creation, the Creator. You enjoy making something amazing out of nothing, a true creator. You want to do something beyond this world."
Sometimes it's good to be reminded of who you are.
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