I live in an attic, and I have a window directly over my head where I sleep. I slept with it open last night, and I woke up, suddenly, to look up at a clear sky of stars. I saw a shape pop out at me immediately, like a group of them were being illuminated specifically for me. I felt propelled into it, like I understood all that was out there. The moment vanished in a fleeting two seconds. I fell back to sleep.
I woke from my dreams and put on my grungy clothes to volunteer in a community garden in Rotterdam, a city about 20 minutes train ride from my own. On the train, I opened Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Nature, and the first passage was about stars:
“But if a man be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds will separate between and what he touches. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out those envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.”
I sent it to my anthropologist friend, and he said it’s exactly the inspiration he needed for a section of thesis he’s working through. He thanked me for reminding him of his favorite author, a fact of which I was unaware of.
I got off the train and walked 15 minutes to the garden, someone I’d been seeing called me. We had a lengthy chat about ending things, and then my phone died. I walked into the garden, in a daze of pain.
I asked J the bee keeper what I could do to help. He told me to harvest all the spring onions. So I got to work and dug up about fifty of them, occasionally sitting back on my haunches to take a deep breath at the realization that my heart is breaking. Again. Tears wanted to come, but I held them back and finished my work.
We all broke our work for a tea break. The discussion randomly turned to the topic of pain and how we have to feel it when we’re in it.
J and I walked over to the wood chip pile. We pondered why his bees were attracted to the chips, concluding it was due to it’s warmth. I looked at my feet and told him I was upset. He gave me a good hug, and we talked about the power of right now – of being in the moment.
I then spoke with another guy I’m speaking with, who is half Spanish and half Dutch. He knew someone that died today in the plane crash. I told him I knew a guy who died in MH17. We talked about the fragility of life.
I was lying in my bed tonight, again with the window directly above my bed open, and this little kitty appeared. She’s been coming around. She sprints through my apartment, plays with my plastic bags and meows at to me with a thick purr. She’s a furry angel.
Then, I got this uplifting message:
“Be aware and keep in mind that I support you in all your power and greatness.”
Life is magic.