My Spirit presented me with surprising images this morning, when blowing the dust still kept by the corners of the memory somewhat sleepwalking of my separation.

And so it was that the moment of departure had arrived in that brief goodbye after breakfast, and I passed the gate alone, leaving behind the old wooden house, the garden of tall grass, the scent of the wild rose bush still in bloom and the man I loved. As I walked, felt the ground shake and, when realized it, was in a bare land, where all the colors were dressed in gray, while the ground collapsed around me. Even though I was tired, remained standing, inert, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, on a single fragile column of earth to support me and from where my eyes could see nothing more.

Now, lying in my bed, I heard birds dawn on the balcony and new winds rattled the windows, airing the memories in me. And my dear Child Spirit this time awakened me kindly, flying the dust to redraw the whole scenery and create the image of a fresh landscape, the magnificent view of high mountains that she colored with her warm, soft and gentle breath. And I there, simply contemplated and, taken by that childish joy, raised my arms wide in a desire to embrace all this beauty with my heart.

But behold, unexpectedly, I started to feel the ground move and collapse next to me. Waves of apprehension reverberated in my body, waking up again the faded memory of separation. But the dancing child played as an artist and skillfully sculpted the top of a new mountain with the earth at my feet, where I remained motionless, viewing the same magnificent landscape that enchanted my morning.

In that instant, I realized the message, understood that my feet touched the only land that they had to touch — the present. The incessant searches of a long way revealed cycles seen from that small summit, the circle of my time, without a past, without a future, only my indelible life. No effort to climb mountains took place, only the relief of a release, letting the story goes to create new stories. Thus was born the confidence in me that the scenarios would change, the landscapes would transform, and the mountain would always be at my feet, like the gentle and exact ground permanently supporting me.

Maristela Rohenkohl

August 20, 2020.

Image: Roys Peak, New Zealand, by Jasper van der Meij

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