Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Conversations in Czech

Continuing on my exploration of foreign terrain, I divinate with Neale Donald Walsch‘s deck of cards – all in Czech.

Known for his book series, Conversations with God, Walsch offers these “cards of awareness” with different thoughts to contemplate, depending on which card you select.

Neale Donald Walsch

There are those that may say it can be challenging to hear the voice of God, let alone carry on an entire conversation together. It is even more of a stretch when you’re speaking different languages. So for me, this Hovory s Bohem is carried on only by the grace of Google Translate tools.

Clearly these cards are on loan. And if you’ve been following the Archives as of late, you’ll know from whence they’ve come. If you’re just tuning in, well, I’ve been surprising myself with the level of candidness with which I’ve been publicly sharing my recent friendship with the man who’s come to be referred to as the Bohemian Lover.

He seems to love all things, from the Dragonfruit starts he sprouted from seed, to the grey kitten that follows him around like a young girl in love. He also, apparently, appreciates the occasional hovory with God via a convenient and portable deck of cards.

When he graciously shares them with me, it’s like stepping into another world. All of the letters on the cards are placed in new combinations. Foreign diacritical marks make exotic shapes on paper. Just viewing the words seem to transport me to unknown realms.

Of course, when it’s my turn to divinate a card, I’m hopeful that I will draw something that reflects me in all of my highest virtues. I’m hoping it’s magic and love and all things miraculous that will be conveyed in the card I pull.

These are the words, that appear on my selection:
Nic není bolestivé samo o sobě. Ta bolest je způsobena špatným myšlení.

Roughly translated:
Nothing is not painful in itself. The pain is due to bad thinking. (Gotta love the double negative).

How do you spell “wha-wah”?

Hardly the ethereal, heavenly message reflecting the beauty of my innermost soul that I had hoped for.

The Bohemian Lover tries to (lovingly) translate this for me. But has a bit of trouble. Understandably.

Mmmm. Perhaps in the realm of love and God there is some room for things to get lost in translation. Maybe because these things are beyond the mind and words and logic.

Though I’m not feeling like I am in pain, it’s true that in these recently explored, uncharted areas of the heart, I do at times feel afraid. I suppose that pain is most likely rooted in fear.

And if pain is due to bad thinking, maybe I should just take a pause on thought. Simply feel my way through this. No more, this-equals-this. Realize that some things simply don’t directly translate.

I can pull a card and just look at the completely foreign words of Neale Donald Walsch’s transmission from God in Czech. Feel the words as my eyes gaze upon them. Surrender to the fact that my mind has no idea what they mean. But that somewhere, somehow, these words in all of their alien script have been selected just for me.

That my heart already speaks this language. Is well versed in this Love dialogue.

It’s been here, having this conversation since the beginning of time.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

In the Fold

Last night
there was a true Bohemian at my table
three mugs of ginger tea
my two eyes watching
four hands folding
aerospace creases
for origami flight

“It’s a brand new design”
he says
then returns to whistling.
I know that tune
at first I think it must be
“Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah”
but it soon segues
to “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

How did the Bohemian Lover
end up at my dinner table
eating macaroni and cheese
with me
and my seven-year old?

He folds paper airplanes
with such intent
that they glide
like a feather
in perfect spiral corkscrews
leaving a child to gape
and ask
“How’d you do that?!”

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Breadcrumbs

So the wee hours of yesterday were spent crafting words that swirled in the updraft of blossoming hearts and golden love.

This morning, I’m all mom.

For some unknown reason, Jeb wakes at 5:23am and never goes back to sleep. Though he knows this is my writing hour, he can’t help but interject his seven year old self as I type. There’s that dream he had last night with Harry Potter and the lightening bolt.

Or, “Just real fast mom,” he opens his palm full of 50 dimes, “do you have a five dollar bill to trade me.”

Counting coins before 6am (there’s a lot of jangling coming from his room) would be unnerving except that it’s buying me some time here at the keyboard.

The post that was brewing will most likely not be birthed here, as my living offspring – though being respectfully patient – will soon need breakfast.

Yes, the thread I was following, which I thought to share with you, was something on the topic of privacy. Ironically, this morning, here in the Archives, Jeb’s peripheral presence does not quite allow me the typical private space I rely on to express myself.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

It’s 6:20am now and the sun is rising to shine light on all things tender. Yesterday’s post, “Love with the Capital L” still stirs in me with all its vulnerability. There is no one on my small island with whom I have revealed this sacred sharing. What compels me to post a piece on the world-wide web announcing an affair with a character deemed the Bohemian Lover?

Perhaps all of this loving, sweet magic has gone to my head, simply clouding my discretion. Maybe.

If so, my current mood says, “so be it.” There seems to be gold in the sharing. Something rich in being this raw in uncharted territory. Maybe these words are survival instincts. Tossing breadcrumbs in my wake, hoping that if this trail leads to overwhelming places, I’ll have some lifeline to lead me back.

Oh how I wish there was the time to really articulate these thoughts, but breakfast calls. I am a woman putting lunch snacks in Tupperware, crafting poetry in my head over dirty dishes and sifting in the memory of strong arms around my waist as my son asks me “how do you spell ‘wizard’?”

These morning words from me, simply breadcrumbs, while I follow the thread.