Lord, may I be given back
the child soul I once had,
ripe with stories,
in his feathered cap
with his wooden sword.
Garcia Lorca, "Ballad of the Little Plaza"
Eucalyptus, today it hit me differently, almost as if I had been ignorant all along. I'm talking about memory, dreams and visual hallucination. About the ways of becoming...
There's this image, memory, dream from my childhood that I always deemed real. I believe we all have them. In my case, a mysterious experience from when I was around 5.
Sitting on the top of a hill surrounded by trees of dark greens I asked my greater self
It was also the first time I, consciously, recognized the biggest question there is and felt the immeasurable suffering of our living condition, the weight of such gift, its loneliness...something you know well.
At the time I was living in a village inside the Atlantic forest surrounded by nature, by you Eucalyptus, safe from my mother's fears and insecurities.
It was probably the single time during my childhood that I was free to roam and so I did, passionately (once we moved back to my hometown my mom became overly protective).
Also around that time I was intuitively drawn to the way you shed your old bark. And in that sense to the way that my grandma' skin felt against my cheeks. Old wisdom.
If only a hallucination, it was powerful enough to stay with me after all these years, giving me fuel... if a memory, it reminded me of my purpose, rescuing myself from my insignificances. If a dream, it showed me the roads to wholeness. It still does, to this very day.
To be able to contemplate this - regardless of the fact that I can't prove if: a memory, a dream or a visualization - is to be able to be transported into that state of being or consciousness in which we are not separate from one another ~ thank you, for being there for me, being the witness to the beginning of my journey.
On a side note, my mom after decades (!) of not remembering her dreams had a dream last night. Even though she insists "it was just a dream". I feel somewhat accomplished as we spent the entire week talking about honoring our memories, sharing my dreams, listening to one another and reading about it. I mentioned I wanted to give her a tincture or make her tea. It wasn't necessary. Word as medicine.