I see you. You are not invisible to me. When I look at you, you wear no clothes. You wear no physical form. There is a ball around your body that lights up when you’re around people you like and dims when you’re not fond of them. The ball has colors and patterns that are spectacularly blended to me. I see you.
You’re a kaleidoscope of vivid colors that ebb and flow depending on how you move the liquid essence that you float in unwittingly. Where there is pain, I see the darkness. Where there is love, I see the light. Where you reside is usually a central color that tells me everything I need to know about you. I am a voyeur of sorts but not the creepy kind. I will not jump from your closet unexpectedly one night. I will meet you on the terms you’ve established. Because I can feel your intent.
I’m sorry if you feel I’ve invaded your privacy. I don’t know how to turn it off. I don’t really don’t want to because it’s served me so well. It’s proven invaluable to me to seek others of the light. It’s proven invaluable to me when I know I can’t trust a person because they are too consumed by material things to know they’re spiritual beings. It’s guided me effectively to incredible experiences through people with knowledge so deeply profound that I sometimes weep with gratefulness while others cause me deep caution.
It’s a feeling of authentic appreciation of identity that can only bloom with the watering of confidence when I see people that fit into their spirits; That “get it”. When I see someone working actively to grow into their spirits, I can forgive almost anything they do because I witness the evolution of color as if a perfect painting were in the works and I get to watch the brushstrokes fall on the canvas. It’s glorious to see. My gift allows me the privilege without effort.
There are also people who are not exactly dark and not exactly light. They are in a flux between worlds. The material world grabs their ankles and wrists tugging them away from their destiny. Their spirit self does a watoosie trying to find footing, trying to fill in the blanks. There are some that stand in this disarray and cry out that they don’t know who they are or that they don’t know what they’re doing. Nobody knows for sure what we’re doing. We just come up with a plan and see how it pans out. If we’re lucky, we have guides to show us the way out. I am one of those guides but I don’t know everything.
It is increasingly difficult when I feel as if I am carrying/dragging them towards the light. They start off saying, “Oh yes! I really want to do something different and I really like your ideas. Let’s go on this journey together.” I comply and we have long talks deep into the night. The kind that feels like it is the most important conversation I’ll ever have. For that moment in time that glimpse into the moonlight or the daylight it truly is. The intensity can’t be matched because it is so relevant. It is crucially real. But they fall back asleep and forget that we’d every spoken the conversation. With some, that shine so brightly but fear themselves, I keep trying to wake them up because I believe they need to be; because they said they wanted to be.
I don’t say anything to people who are dark. I don’t squeal with delight when I see them. Their wounds run far too deep for me to do anything other than shine a light at the end of their tunnel and coax them from sleep if they’re ready. There have been times when words came out of my mouth that weren’t mine but were intended for a particular person. Just like that, it’s as if a small miracle, sometimes large, happens but it isn’t mine. That’s when my light can reach into that dark place and help bring them home to the light where they belong. Those are the people that shoot past me like a rocket grinning from ear to ear on the tides of self-discovery and I cherish each one that finds that place. I do not gift them because it’s already theirs as it is yours. I may just nudge the light a tad to the right so they can see they’re really okay.
But I can’t carry them. I can’t wake them up. I can’t do that. I can’t pick someone up and force them to embrace their colors. It is ALWAYS the individual choices that color their spirits. It is ALWAYS their responsibility. I learned this and other rules of engagement when watching the masterpieces I encounter.
I can’t tell people what color they will become but I can tell them what color I see. The colors don’t have traits as much as they have emotions attached to them. When I see the colors and I really like them, I have to wait. I can’t immediately bond with them because rarely, but it does happen, they are wearing someone else’s colors. Like maybe they had a bad interaction with someone so it clouds their spirit or they’ve just received great news and are wearing that instead of their normal vestments. It’s the wolf in sheep’s clothing that causes me to ease my steps.
The physical being, the way you wish people to see you comes second. When I see someone that matches their physical self with their spirit self, it’s a feeling of home. It’s a feeling of such personal integrity, I think, “YOU! You’re there!” Sometimes it surprises me so much to find an authentic person that I actually say that out loud. There are many people who come close to matching but, it’s like they choose the wrong pair of socks or the wrong shade of happy. It’s just enough off for me to recognize that they’re missing parts of themselves or aren’t aware they are. It is my experience that it’s typically the latter.
The physical being does matter. I don’t wish you to have the wrong impression. I do see it, but not until I’ve peered through the spirit. When I tell someone that they are beautiful, I see them as I’ve described to you. I wish I could paint each person so they could see their beauty too. As if, if I could create them on canvas, they might appreciate their own divinity that seems apparent to me. But instead I’ll follow the advice of my kind Uncle Les who said, “Mare, whatever you do, keep doing it. The world needs more of it.” So it is written, so it is done.
Am I my own imagination come to life or who others want to see?
Am I an earthquake that shakes the foundation of your beliefs?
Am I the whirlwind that’s met with cautious alacrity?
Am I so enigmatic I am hidden even from myself?
Am I a magician’s assistant that performs with infuriating stealth?
Who am I when there’s nobody around to witness me?
Am I just a wanderer piloting my ship on the popped blue collar sea?
Here are some things I jot down so I don’t forget them:
- May 10, 2014: I overheard the phrase clever flaws. It brought to mind an odd coagulation of things perceived as character flaws that somehow work together to make an interesting human. I have one such friend that is as fiery as can be, extremely capable of defending herself both verbally, intellectually, and physically. She’s beautiful, wicked smart, compassionate, strong, and brilliantly alive. Cleverly flawed and perfectly human.
- May 7, 2014: She’s put a rock on that relationship. It means to put a gravestone on a bad relationship of any sort and put it to rest. It no longer serves a purpose in one’s life. It’s kapoots, over, finished, never again.
- May 7, 2014: “My once fire colored hair has turned to smoke and ash.” My 19 year old son was pondering what he will look like when he’s old. I found it extremely vivid in the imagery.
- May 6, 2014: Two Haiku’s I wrote for a friend of mine:
Haiku Number One
The worst thing she’s done
Stabbed fiery into her life
Haiku Number Two
Set free without a whisper
an explosion, loved
- April 24, 2014: Crystal Beeler was getting ready for work while I sat on the edge of her tub watching her straighten her hair. We were talking about things that were happening in her life, things she wanted to do. Somehow she opened her mouth and rainbows and unicorns started dancing. That’s a lie. What isn’t a lie is that she said, “The problem with people is that we’re looking at everyone’s front door from our bone filled closets.”
- March 11, 2014: Want to make your own body wash? 5 cups of water, 3 bars of any soap finely grated, melt together in a pot until the soap is dissolved, allow to cool a bit, put in jars and use at will. My sister-in-heart Shannon Looney gave me this recipe and I love it.
- February 9, 2014: “Indigo Children are those who have seen and remember the face of God.” I’m not sure where I heard that or maybe read that, but I am an Indigo Child, so I found it interesting. I haven’t decided whether or not this applies to me in the way it’s worded which is why I saved it so I could simmer the thought on my back burner where I put many of my deep questions I like to think about as well as the not so deep.
- January 20, 2014: “Some days my hands look so old that I have to imagine youth weaving power back between and around my fingers like warm mittens and wedding rings.”
- January 20, 2014: There is an incredible woman named Lady Astarte that lives in Knoxville, TN. Whenever I get to be around her, which has become quite a bit less frequent than I’d like, we always experience whales of laughter and hurricanes of words that build up incredible energy. She’s one of my favorite people.
- November 3, 2013: An idea I had for a country song: Barbeque buddies and back-door neighbors
- October 12, 2013: For some reason I have the definition of vulgar. “vul-gar Pronunciation: VUHL-gur\ Function: adjective Etymology: Middle English, from Latin vulgaris of the mob, vulgar, from volgus, vulgus mob, common people Date: 14th century 1a: generally used, applied, or accepted b: understood in or having the ordinary sense (they reject the vulgar conception of miracle — W.R. Inge) of or relating to the common people: plebeian b: generally current: public (the vulgar opinion of that time) c: of the usual or typical, or ordinary kind 4a: lacking in cultivation, perception, or taste : coarse b: morally crude, undeveloped, or unregenerate: gross c: ostentatious or excessive in expenditure or display: pretentious 5a: offensive in language: earthy b: lewdly or profanely indecent Synonyms: Common or Coarse
- October 6, 2013: “Uniqueness is inherent beauty.” From the television show “Bones” Do not underestimate the power of your experiences that alter and/or enhance this uniqueness. Spirit and body combine to create a fantastic array of lovely, valid, worthy persona. “We seldom think of what we have but always what we lack.”
- October 3, 2013: You can live under my willow tree. There’s always room for you; always a vacancy.
- September 24, 2013: You know da po-po when you po’ po’. They keep the bros and hos from go’in loco in da hood when they up to no good, shut ’em down.
- September 20, 2013: Kiss me until I’m stupid
- September 11, 2013: Phrases, phases, pens and pages
- June 28, 2013: Country song idea for chorus: written in Nashville, TN with Lyle Hoskin while watching people enter The Grand Ol’ Opry for the evening show:
Cowboy boots and the itty-bitty skirts,
tight blue jeans and the red plaid shirts,
drinkin’ long necks
raisin’ hell like your mama warned you about
We’re from the South ya’ll
Raise ’em up! And drink ’em down.
- June 6, 2013: “You feel and find the significance of life.”
- April 21, 2013: Turquoise, pumpkin, lemon <– three of my favorite colors
- March 30, 2013: “I heard a bird sing every word within her repertoire, Many verses that she sang for she had traveled far.
If you keep notes, share a couple in the comments. I’m interested in your thoughts.