It’s a noun, it’s a verb. It can unlock doors, tone a vibration to your ear, offer respite in an ocean. It’s the square upon which I can tap to express these words. It’s an answer.
In my travels this winter I became interested in the literal keys I came across – the ones of metal with rings.
A Lucky Key
And I took note of the thresholds. Doorways open, as well as closed. Sometimes I was the one unlocking them.
I’ve been dreaming of an exhibit of the keys and doors I come across.
Here’s to the curiosity of doorways and the power of unlocking keys.
photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reservedphoto by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reservedphoto by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reservedphoto by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved
bird bath overflow with papaya leaf after downpour ~ photo by Jessica Dofflemyer all rights reserved
I’ve been steeped in the past by looking through old journal entries, trying to piece together details to convey stories. Big Sur just a month ago. British Columbia fifteen years past. Funny how the act of simply reading the words can stir the proverbial pot and thicken the broth. Perhaps the emotions conjured through reading are a gateway through which I transcend time and space. A vehicle with which I can build bridges or burn them down, depending on my desire.
For now I’m just thankful for how long the ink lasts on aged paper. Hoping the mold doesn’t overtake my treasure trove of journals before I cross all those bridges (and digitize those stories somehow).
With the pot simmering and my heart transporting itself through time portals, it’s good to remember true North. Which literally happens to be my physical locale in the island chain. Home is where the heart is. And there’s certainly some love and beauty in the backyard.
the tropical version of a Maxfield Parish painting ~ photo by Jessica Dofflemyer all rights reserved
By Day 3 and 4 in my feel-good place, I was certainly more in touch with the feel-good. I’d overcome resistance. Had grooved and was moved in the Dance Church. I’d ventured into the Rise Up Singing! class and harmonized a gospel tune with twenty other singers. I’d had a cleansing cry with my workshop facilitator, confessing I was mending a broken heart. And of course, my daily soaking rituals were dissolving layers in ways that only hydrotherapy can do.
So by Day 4, I’d quieted down into a soft hum. I could sit in the meditation hut for 30 minutes of silence without struggle. Calm seemed to seamlessly transition from the hut’s round purple pillow out the door into my day. My mind was clear. My heart open.
As I walked along the seacliff, an old spiritual of which I only knew some of the words, would surface and lilt through my throat to the salt air.
Swing low, sweet chariot coming for to carry me home Swing low, sweet chariot coming for to carry me home
The song somehow soothed me. And I was truly home. In the midst of such external beauty, yes, it was my idyllic abode. Big forest trees, ocean, mossy rocks, succulents and cascading waterfalls to the sea. Steaming springs that bubbled forth from the earth. But it was on the inside that I felt that resting place of ease. Connected with my truest self – my own chariot – I was home.
…my love for him is enmeshed in the sound of that river flowing. He is in the water and the bowing cedar trees. Our love is grounded in this place. The trees sing of him, the paths hold the story of our connection, the rocks and lawns tell of the sweetness we found in Love, with each other. This Love is housed in my physical body- my very cells. The land knows. It reminds me.
Walking out of the meditation hut on Day 4, I realized that there was no extracting him from the wind in those big trees. And I did not want to anymore. The breeze was no longer bittersweet. What blew through the branches that whispered of him, more deeply held the essence of Love itself. Love that was shared between a man and a woman but was a reflection of my own heart. A gateway to a Love more vast than anything that could ever be ‘mine’, yet all that I ever was.
photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved
shine your light you don’t have to let go of that sweet essence the connection you made was your own true Beloved full and rich with open heart you stumbled forward arms outstretched to touch the grace in wonder
the essence is alive in you through you it’s what was is and always will be yours Love Home
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