Ask the question you really want to ask,
The question that leaves you completely vulnerable,
The question whose answer might be too terrifying to hear.
Ask the question that is truly in your heart
Rather than seeking answers that the mind thinks it needs to find,
And in that asking, you will discover your true self
And you will find the person who will answer you.
This was fun – a short creative writing workshop led by Eric Muller this weekend, consisting of two adults and 3 8th graders. Everyone started with one sentence, then passed the paper over to the next person, where they added another sentence, and so forth, until the paper came back to the person who wrote the first sentence:
I woke up to the beaming of the warm sun into my spacious loft caressing the leaves on the tropical plants,
It was a beautiful morning to wake up and look at nature around me,
It was a beautiful morning to be alive,
Jarring me out if this reveries, the sky darkened, distant thunder was heard.
The sky turned dark and it began to rain,
Reminding me of why you left me.
Introspective of this moment in which I swim into the depths of my heart, search for an answer from within.
Witnessing a person as they transform,
Having faith in the transformation,
Living in the center of the lemniscate,
The past contained in the present,
The future emerging from the present,
The seed that contains from the flower,
The flower that contains the seed,
Witnessing the plant as one,
Having faith that the plant is one,
Living in the oneness of life.
Tell me who you really are,
And I will listen without judgement,
See me for who I really am,
And hold me within a safe place.
Why do I recognize you yet I do not know you?
Why do I love you without any past
To draw familiarity and comfort from,
Yet your soul touches within me the recognition…
Of having found that which I do not recall losing–
I had forgotten that without this love
The connections were missing an anchor
that grounds me from within in the trust now found…
I saw you, and in that seeing, you recognized me–connected souls,
without whom the waters of the lemniscate would not flow within.
Flickering threads of red brightening and dimming in whisps of cool air,
Warm to the touch, astir with the possibility of flame and quickening flare,
To touch the kindling, patiently awaiting the spark to alight
the splintered grain, grasping at shards of heat and springing into yellowing light.
Leaping across the frosty air trembling below the sky cracking blue,
Pierced by the touch of your gaze, shivering for the warmth that can but renew,
To touch each other in the spaces forgotten by time’s sadness and loss,
The places darkened are now quietly lighting as warmth moves slowly across:
Caressing fingers upon cheek and brow reaching deeper into your heart’s deep care,
Soft in the touch are your hands moving between meridians in need of repair,
To touch the trembling surfaces and reach deeper into the etheric realm intangible,
The soul and the body entwine, enmeshed in weaving light becoming intimately inseperable,
To touch the embers of our spirits and kindle the hearth into warming light,
To warm the rooms of our souls and dance as cheering flames in awakening delight.