A meeting halfway between the worlds: A dream from so many many years ago, about a person who no longer/never really existed

It's halfway between day and night. I'm in another world, one that didn't exist until I slowly woke up. Rain softly falls on the tin roof overhead, contributing to the surrealness of being awake, and making the pre-dawn light an even softer blue-gray than normal.
There is something about rain that just makes me feel as if it was lightly storming in my bones, my soul turned to white-gray. The storm creates a sense of tranquility; a sense of calm and peace. I feel completely comfortable, alive, and in the moment, even as I remember a particular dream from the night before.

Rain had been pattering softly on the roof in that one dream, too.
******
There was almost a bitter-sweet sort of anticipation in the air, a sort of lemonade atmosphere. Someone was coming, someone who had to travel far and long to see me, someone who I had never met before in the physical world.
I had been hurriedly cleaning the room that I share with my three sisters when I heard someone softly coming up the stairs.
It was him, the one who I seem to know so dearly, but have never seen in my life. We hug, long and happy, the moment savored.
There is a certain amount of awkwardness after the hug, neither of us really know how to behave, we are both cautious, overcome by the strangeness of the moment,  though we don't feel shy or uncomfortable. I suggest a walk, even though rain is still pouring outside.
*****
Most of what I remember about the dream are colors and feelings, black hair, tan skin, gray light. Happiness, and a sort of sadness. Perhaps that is my outside awareness, the part of me that knows it was only a dream, the part of me that so much wishes it could happen in real life.

I once wrote of a chance meeting, a meeting with a person I would never see again, I wrote "The heart hopes on, as it always will". That line perfectly described how I felt then, and how I felt as I woke up in the peaceful gray of a rainy dawn. It wasn't real, but, oh, it was beautiful.

Tug of war (also very old, forgive me any unfortunate soul who wades through this)

I
Want you in,
keeping you out
building barriers I
expect you to break down

Holding you in my heart,
needing your presence.
Come hither,
But stay far away.

Like a moth to the flame,
Me falling in love with you.
Then falling out again,
I confuse myself more than you ever could.

II
Ever since I first met you,
I've been trying so hard not to fall in love with you.
Of course,
I have failed.
I love you,
But I know I can't have you,
I dreamed of a conversation with my parents, and forgot it by morning.
But it felt like they were saying I could not be yours, I would be in the way of greater things for you.
There was a vaguest hint of 'yet' in the dream, like a lingering whisper of "belum".

I know,
I know,
I know,
But I am so disappointed.

III
Struggling with my feelings,
I would not give myself permission to love,
And so loving you was painful.
It hurt, to love you.

I admit it now, that I love you,
And I'll probably love you for as long as I know you,
But it doesn't hurt anymore,
Love is a happy feeling once again

I love you.

IV.
You fell in love with my sister,
She loved you back
I write this in the past tense
Because she let you go

Maybe you still want her back,
You were so beautiful together,
You gave each other so much.
It made me happy to see you
Loving each other.

Flowers

Climb the Tree, Come Down Only for Green Mangoes

The eyes of my heart were broken
on the continent's brow.
Flash of yellow light, stars
and the world was outlined in red
and yellow, bright blue and salmon walls.
Pounded down by a waterfall,
strong enough to stay standing.
Wore me down and built me up,
little sandcastle human,
shaped by the branches that reminded
me of my own softness.
Surrounded by new colors, I forgot
what my own shell looked like.
Sycophant, the outside reflected the inside
reflecting self of surroundings.
A continuous, silver song
White on white
on blue on verdant on saffron
Goldenrod azul.
Butterfly, blue. 

A Realization

I was somehow lucky enough to visit Colombia for ten days this Spring.
While I was there, I was completely floored by the absolute beauty of the countryside and the cities of Medellín and Santa Fe de Antioquia. I am but a small desert girl, and being surrounded by all of that greenery was absolutely breathtaking. The flowers were everywhere, blooming from bushes and trees, flashes of orchids in the mountains and gardens in the cities. The color quenched and awakened a thirst in my eyes.
I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stand being back home, in the mud and grayness of Winter giving way to Spring.
Surprisingly, a film had been washed from my eyes in Colombia, and I looked at my landscape with clear vision. The beauty here, so different from Colombia, pierced my heart just the same, and I discovered just how much I love this landscape. The wild trees in my valley, rocky mountain juniper and cedar, may be shorter, stockier, and less lush than those in Colombia, but they are still so beautiful. The blue-grey, scaly fields of sage, low to the ground feel like home.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are desert landscapes in Colombia too, around drought and just normally dry areas near the mountains of Antioquia. I saw cacti there taller than what grows close and nearly invisible to the ground in the hills of my valley.
The spring flowered here, sweeter smelling than Colombia, absolutely white on campus as the trees donned gowns of popcorn balls all along the sidewalk. The black locusts in my backyard were blooming until just yesterday, when the tiny, orchid-like flowers began to fade and flutter to the ground, spent.
I wasn't able to truly appreciate the beauty of my home until I traveled to Colombia, and experienced a land incredibly beautiful, in many many ways. I cannot say that one is more beautiful than the other, but my experience of both has opened my eyes, and I love them dearly. 

Prayer

Sacred little fruit,
Thank You, speechless burst of life
in my mouth, my mind. 

Blackberry Kisses (Walk Two Moons)

Blackberry kisses
cannot be understood, fully,
until you take one with your own lips,
camel, giraffe, horse-like,
from a bowl, deep blue,
empty save for one other berry;

and bit down
into the fully ripe,
starburst purple
of awe and universe in a
single, perfect blackberry. 

Holding Hands with God

My eyes are thirsty 

And my soul is desiccated

Because I have forgotten the feel of your fingers, 

God,

On my palms. 

I never did learn to fully trust you 

And you have flown from the cage in my heart.

But when I remember to look up, 

You greet me from the fence posts,

The song of red winged black bird

And mourning dove, 

And you whisper in the back of my hollow throat. 

I abandon the pretense of walking on the road

Cut across the vacant lot of town
Defy the fences built by own nervous mind

And hold my hands, 

Palms out,

To the phantom of you. 

Halfway mark

 Five hundred cranes folded and strung

        

Something was lost 

in the peppered night air.
Trees bloomed sweetly secret.

Chance Meeting

Walking that grey, winding hallway,
I was following unseen,
Only felt
Threads blindly.
I trusted to the pattern
All around me.
I asked a question;
It had no body,

But its form dissolved,
Was taken up into my surrounding
and condensed into you;
an open door in answer

Wide Eyes and a Tender Heart

Idealistic little college student:
Some days are good,
Others are like black holes of time and energy,
All the world hard and jagged,
No desire to interact with other human-persuaded beings.

Pause, redirect-

Now is not the time to dwell on that half of life,
We are happy, and
we mean to speak about the days
that go better than ever expected;
Filled with inspiration,
We feel like God, themself, is leading us by the heart and hand
And all of the world is deserving of our love
and reverence.
On these days, the world is moment-by-moment created for us...
And we understand;
Are somehow understood by all people.
These are the days we meet extraordinary souls,
sometimes only into hour-long-deep conversation mates
and sometimes those extraordinary souls grow into
Life long friends.

This day of Facebook allows you to
Hold onto the strings of possibility,
Whether or not if they hold fast and strong;
More time for them to mature;
the potential to braid our lives together extended.
More often than not, they dissolve,
and we are left with the memory of ties.

We suppose friendship is more than one person pursuing another,
but both running to meet somewhere in the middle.
How does it work?- We found ourselves asking, waiting, watching
All last year.
Still no answers, but butterfly-bright flashes of inspiration all the time.
Still no answers, still waiting and watching,
Eyes wide open and a tender heart.

How can a person only know another person for a week, and feel like they've known them for years?
What is the probability of this happening more than once?
Probably more probable than you might think...

Winter Morning (A transcript for a Public Speaking Assignment)

I would like to describe a morning spent at the house I watched with my sister last week. The house is studded all around with large windows, allowing an excellent view in all four directions.

Wintery Eastern Mountains slowly lighten from the dark blue of dawn. This is where the horizon is first touched with color, going from deep black to light blue over the course of the morning.

The early light brushes the white top of Mt. Nebo with soft pink, and then tints the deserty West Mountains a dark saffron from top to bottom, going on to illuminate the towns, hills, and ponds below.

Finally, the light slowly creeps across the valley. It’s almost imperceptible when it reaches this house. First the juniper hill at the Western fence line is illuminated, then the closely shorn hayfield, and suddenly there is no line of light, no shadow of the mountain to block out the sun.

After the sun has risen over the mountains ringing this valley, everything is bathed in light, and most people are already going about their short day in this warm winter.

Science and Wonderment

We ridicule the ancient ones for
bestowing the names and titles of "God" and "Goddess"
on the spaces between the things they thought they knew
and the things they didn't even wonder at yet.
But I believe we will find
that "modern man" is the one
who is truly mistaken.
Snuffing out magic and wonder
when "science" could be so much more
than a cardboard box
neatly stacked on the shelf
of things we "know"...

Anchor in this World of Uncertaintly

I am warm, I am 

Safe. I am surrounded by 

My family's love.  

Shibori Quilt

Good to see finished. 

Excellence, vibrant color, 

Satiate mine own. 

Perspectives 2/2

Indigo dying in process

Cloths for indigo dying

I actually finished these a long time ago, but I got the opportunity to dye them this afternoon. I haven't dyed them yet, I'll put up a post afterward. The stitches on the undyed cloth are really visually interesting just on their own, they could almost be an art form in and of themselves. 

Video for Digital Media Class

Stillness and Space on Vimeo.