At long last THE PAPERBACK OF THE SPIRIT OF FLYING IS HERE!!! And what a long strange at times completely exhausting trip it’s been!
My labour of love – I hope you enjoy reading it.
I’ve just spent weeks, months even, with all these people; friends, family. We’ve been working, laughing, playing together. Now – they’re all gone. In less than a minute. I don’t even know if I’ll ever see them again in this lifetime. That we will meet again, in another time and place, is not much comfort right now.
It is as if they have fallen off the face of the planet, or been swallowed up by an earthquake. Now it’s just me again. And I have to learn to live with that fast, get on with it.
I feel disoriented, bereft, torn away.
When I open my mouth to try to tell my husband what I’m feeling – I burst into tears.
As I cry – the memories of this whole life existence fades. All in one night. All that “really” happened was that I woke up, to the noise of the gas-truck blaring, not any natural disaster.
My body feels heavy with grief, still.
Later it made me think of a particular episode of Startrek Next Generation, the one where Captain Picard awakes to find himself living in a small village where he is a well-known member of the community who is suffering from a delusion of being a starship captain. Thus stranded, thirty years lived, all in 20-25 minutes according to Riker.
I feel like this a lot of the time, as if my memories of my “real” life away from this planet are just out of reach most of the time, but very certain that living as a human on this planet, at this time, on this planet, is some kind of interlude. Unlike Picard, who retains his memories clearly from his life on-board the Enterprise, mine are a lot more hazy.
Still the feeling of looking for my life in this existence, for meaning. Knowing without the shadow of a doubt that the basics of existence will never satisfy me. That is like only having one book to read after living in a library; never travel – even curtsey of discovery or history channels; just grow your own vegetable garden and never again set foot in an exotic restaurant; never leave your village or town ever again; same people, same conversations, same gossip, day in, day out. That just is not me.
I don’t know how to squeeze myself into such a small life when I know there is so much more out there.
A bit like Rose Tyler trying to describe what can not be put into words in this short clip from Dr Who:
Startrek; The next generation: Series 5, Episode 25, The Inner Light.
Not long after the Enterprise approaches an unknown buoy or satellite, Captain Picard falls unconscious on the bridge. He awakens in a village where he is married but also something of a village eccentric who thinks he is a spaceship captain by the name of Picard. His wife Eline tries to soothe him and his good friend Batai does not judge him. He lives a full life, has children and grows old. The planet he is on is dying however, suffering from a long and seemingly permanent drought. On board the Enterprise, the crew does its best to revive their unconscious captain but to no avail.
Last night as we were heading home from town we took the longer way around. As we drove towards the cemetery THERE THEY WERE! Like in the traditional ceremonial masks, two Jaguars with real eyes looking at me from the gates! I was fascinated, mesmerized even, as they moved ever so slowly looking right at me. I just could not believe what I was seeing, I kept blinking hard and they were still there. Jaguars are – or at least were- very important to the Mayans, but we are on a small island and to my knowledge there are none roaming about at night or we would soon hear about it. I stared open mouthed at the sleek and beautiful beings.
As we got closer ”reason” overpowered amazement. The black jaguars faded and I found myself staring at the white wrought iron scrolls that decorates the cemetery gates. But for those timeless seconds as we observed one another, the big cats of Mayan tradition were as real as the seat of the bike beneath me and the warm body of my husband in front of me.
That night, as we slept on our VERY comfortable NEW mattress I met a Guardian. He looked like an archetype; native and wearing a traditional loin-cloth. He represented the element of fire, the colour red; energy; power; sexuality.
He stood in the doorway, or on the threshold, of the cabin I found myself in. Like a Sentinel between me and the worlds at large.
I don’t remember much of what he said apart from something about having more energy. Not sure if he was protecting just me for some reason but I did feel very safe and secure. Not just physically, I sensed he was also very knowledgeable.
The whole night was very lucid, the theme running through it all being Gods and Goddesses, Icons, amulets and traditional decorations All had a very intense feeling to them and made me wonder if they had been further infused to have their essence enhanced to a point where they felt… alive.
All in all I felt very grateful for all this magic bestowed on me. I’ve missed the feeling of having a real connection to the land and it’s Gods and Goddesses. In a way I felt more connected before I moved here. Indeed, my south and central american native roots were some of the first to make themselves felt in my heart and subsequently surface in my conscious mind also.
Catpaw on the 10 August 2009
If I knew who to credit for this photo I would add it. It’s not mine.
YESTERDAY I slammed back in the body from where/whenever I had just been thanx to hubbys mobile phone ringing, resulting physically in a sore body, stiff neck and a headache. Why am I even writing about this? Because the ‘’dream’’ I was having was no ordinary dream.
I no doubt came back after a visit to a parallel existence. Here’s some of it:-
One of the first things I that impressed me was how clean and scrubbed everything was, like if no dust ever happened here. We were all outside, a random group of people were making music, and there were people sitting at large round tables, big enough to comfortably seat 6-8, and heavy wood-like chairs. As a visitor I was free to choose or move between the groups of people. On the ground thick grass, to the north tall trees, pleasantly warm and no mosquitos. After a while I had a walk around exploring and found an old LP cover pinned up on an inside wall in what could only be described as a kind of open air museum. I noted that I recognized one of the songs and found, somewhat surprising, I could not remember all the words or I could have sang it as a contribution to the 30 or so people gathered.
In this peaceful place I experienced two sunsets – or was it the same one twice? – and when the sun set, it was yellow and the same size as when we see it in the sky (and not as seen through the slightly magnifying lens of our earths atmosphere, pollution aiding in making it extra colourful, check with the Slooh scientists if you don’t believe me). For the last minute or so the sun was beaming symbols like a slow strobe, not morse code nor hieroglyphs but very distinct none the less.
I remember pointing out to no one in particular that the sun was sending us a message in code. At the time I was sitting in at a meeting taking place on the second floor of one of the buildings to the left, and Rene (very wise and radiant and looking 10 years younger) said –Write it down so you know the first time you saw it, it might become important to know. And I got the idea that not just for my own records but as proof of something one day.
As a gift I was given a small gadget which told not the time but the date and month (no year). The date was 9 April but the 12 April also showed as I tried to figure out how it worked.
I also looked into an other of the ‘’cottages’’ (not the right word but the best I can find to describe the wooden buildings, old both in age and style, think early 1900, but well preserved) where there appeared to be some kind of sewing workshop. Again very clean, bright and airy (sky-windows) in the relatively small space, room following onto room, the brands of the machines unknown to me, models I’ve never seen (like the 2 tier one!) The last room featured a large glassed in balcony that looked out over a rather narrow empty beach and what I knew to be the sea… Strange how the building appeared to be a portal; from the tables on the inside you could see none of the tall buildings set a little bit back the beachfront, nor hear the sea.
I heard something about prisoners working doing the sewing, and to that I say I would not have minded working in such a nice place prisoner or not! A few sample outfits were hanging up, all very well made and nice looking.
I also saw a man drown, and very peacefully die in the arms of his friend (another prisoner) both getting caught in a wave on the beach they were not supposed to be on. On the seaside so much looked so grey, whereas on the other the colours were rich, even the white wood.
I went back through the (former) house (?) to the tables and the friendly discussions taking place at them, and that’s where I was when the phone went off.
When I entered the kitchen to make some coffee and write this down, our resident muse purred and chirped new cat words in a whole new frequency I’ve never heard before… curiouser and curiouser…
What got my attention occurred later in the day as I was scrolling through my fb newsfeed, as there was one of the ‘’symbols’’ having appeared as a crop-circle that very same night! (17th June near Frome in Somerset, UK) Later in the evening I came across a photo of another, this one a couple of weeks old and from Italy, on the page of an other friend. And no, I do not pick friends on the basis of being interested in this particular topic. I am not what you’d call a crop circle person, and altho I appreciate their beauty I have never experienced one first hand or had much of an interest in this phenomenon.
Generally speaking symbols and symbolism is a bit wasted on me. I have little (read no) visual memory and I’m a word-girl, not an image one. That said, when these showed up right in front of me I recognized them somehow. Don’t ask me how.
I admit to have scoffed a little (in the relative privacy of my own head) at these recent and in comparison rather plain crop circles… ‘’easy to make with a plank and a piece of rope’’… Now I’m not so sure, and even if they turn out to be man-made what is to say the inspiration didn’t come from the same source. With all the solar flares, storms and general solar activity, maybe the sun herself transmitted the message. Maybe one day we will know.