They seem so solid, so stable; a cottony-grey wall that hides the sun and stars away in their faraway, unreachable depths. And yet, as one can do in a thick fog, you can run your fingers through them, breathe them deep into your body, get lost in them without being stuck or even hindered. They surround, but do not hold; blind, but do not impede; caress, but do not touch. Nature produces beautiful illusions such as this all the time; to get wrapped up in such wonder is to truly experience being alive.
I remember being young under a moonlit sky. In my early twenties, life pulsed within me, and I would park the car in my driveway, strip down to my underwear (it was a secluded area), and lie on the hood of my old Ford Fairmont in hypnotic rapture at the beauty around me. The sensual coolness of the air, the smell of the damp grass, and the feather wisps of clouds lovingly stroking the face of the Moon as they passed before her eyes left me breathless. Time stood still in this place, this monochrome dream of nature where everything around me seemed to breathe me in and hold me spellbound. My long hair wound up beneath my head as a pillow, I would lie there on that old, beat up car for hours, feeling that I had finally found my true love and lover who opened up their secrets for me alone. It was heaven.
My old college roommate, Chrissy, introduced me to Heart's album "Dog and Butterfly". There's a song on there called 'Minstral Wind', and it's a meltingly lovely metaphor of a girl caught in the winds of love and lust. She sails in her tiny boat, and the Wind whispers seductively in her ears, tempts her with treasures and visions of intense beauty and pleasure, and as the song builds, she is left spun around, off course, completely lost in his torrents of passion, her will no longer her own. By the end of the song she stands on her watch on a still night, and she waits for the breeze to move her again, to feel the "magic space" ripple through her once more. She hungers for the surge of nature, passion, beauty...everything that keeps her alive in this world. From the moment I first listened to this song, I knew what she was waiting for, identified with the character wholeheartedly. It may be chaos, but to lose your way in deep passion, in the foggy cloudiness of drenching, muggy desire, is gloriously divine.
My moonlit nights gave me a taste of that. Human lovers, as I grew older, added to the collection of sensations and experiences, but the magic of the natural world continued to always beg to be considered prominently. The tendril streaks of cloud across the canvas of sky, the smell, taste and feel of the rain as it splashes upon the skin and runs thrillingly across velvet flesh, the subtle heat of a mammoth tree that pulls one in and close enough to stroke and smell it's dusty, sweet bark....these are treasures of life, vibrant vibrational reminders that we are alive and part of it all. Our brains block out so much of these sensations as we do our day to day survival dances, but we are only cheating ourselves when we shift our priorities so much that we miss what is going on around us. There is another world that begs to be drunk in and ravenously tasted.
This world has been nagging at me to return to my child-like wonder and co-create with it once more. As part of my healing, I have also been consciously asking for an awakening of my own kundalini, the life force energy that is the source of all vitality and creation. Whether it is that, or the fact that I may be entering my change of life process...I have no idea....has left me more open to sensual excitement and more aware of subtle energy shifts in the natural world. It's like walking around with a constant orgasmic buzz that leaves me giggling at everything for no reason. It's wonderful, and I highly recommend it.
Tonight, the clouds sailed past a brilliant full moon. Exhausted after a long day. I still took a moment to gaze up at my old friends, and I waited for that breeze to move me. I giggled as I felt the familiar stirrings, felt my breath catch in the physical thrills and tingles that murmured through my body with delicious promises. The minstral whispered, and I am seduced; I am, for the rest of my life, his.
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