Diamonds In The Sky

 

Like a star that streaks across the night sky, the comet she rode caught my eye.  As her arcing path reached its zenith, it flared out into a waterfall of light above the river…. and winked at me. My little Tinkerbell nudged me in the ribs as she clung on to my backside. “That one?” I asked my lil’ Pixie. “Yes. Absolutely.  She is so lively and so exuberantly full of energy.” She replied. “Let your orbits intersect as you pass each other and intermingle your essence. Trust me….. go with your intuitive knowing.”

Since my flight was already on target to merge with hers, all I had to really do was to relax and go with the flow which would then blend myself with her comet’s tail. I slowed my speed  just a bit so as to enter her energy field. The first edges of the field were magnetic undulations that created shimmering distortions of her etheric body that seemed to turn her arms into long wings as though she were an athletic bird hovering in the inky darkness.

The second edges of the field were vibrating waves of light which were coming out of her eyes and her mouth. The third edge of the energetic field was a pervading warmth, enveloping sense of affection and endearment that resonated with tenderness. Smitten would  have been a good word to describe the moment.

Entrancement  of the night.

Sweet angel of the light.

I’ve often said that if you want to send someone into the relaxation response of their psyche and their nervous system, the most direct way is to allow some heat to warm them up. This star person before me was the embodiment of that directive. The cascade of thermal energy coming off of her body melted any tension, any resistance and any hardness that might have been present in my heart.

The distance closed between our forms. Gravitational attraction brought us face to face.

Her eyes grew wide…. and drew me in. Her hair rose away from her face as though it were floating in water. I breathed in her aura as though it were from some aromatic heaven.

Our fingertips touched……and said hello…in that universal language that needs no translation.

Eyes meeting as one while contoured hands caressed in a long smooth run. Breath rhythms rippled out over the hills and valleys of warm skin as heart to heart connections were felt and appreciated in a loving way.

I brought my hand from one end of her body to the other with a sweeping stroke, and then another, until I was playing her figure like a human harp. The music in my mind made it easy to dance along her skin, to play along the current of her respiration and enjoy her response.

In retrospect, this was a precursor to both of our lives that would move toward doing and teaching bodywork. Those tender moments of sensing and listening to my hands would translate into future understandings of how to enter another’s space without disturbing the surface ease. For her, the experiences of my contoured hands and enlivening touch created a background tapestry which inspired her to start a very successful massage school in the coming years. I was the spark for her pursuing that path, she said.

She relates: “It was like the rebirth of a lost art that I somehow knew deep within myself. But most of all you taught me to love receiving massage…that has driven me through all these years.”

The art of touch needs and requires a receiver who can truly appreciate the notes that are being played on the skin’s piano. “Mirra” was such a resonant receiver of touch that she literally purred during these times. I called her “My Little Purr Cat” and for good reason. “Mirra” perfectly “mirrored” my sense of vibrating resonance.

These moments of pure dropping of separateness and into a zone of no boundaries were simply wonderful explorations into a state of oneness.

I was using strokes like a paint brush to create an image of vibrancy and well being that were intensely energizing to both of us.

And then, like the stroke of midnight in Cinderella’s dream, the magnetic bond that held us together for those moments simply evaporated and let us go. For it was time. It was time for her path to sail away  to a new world in another locale and time for my work to begin on the water’s edge outside a little area of North Carolina known as Tuxedo. We took flight as meteorites again and flew off into the night to remain apart forever.

The only remnants left of our encounter would be dancing sparks left in our wake in the outlines of our fingerprints.

The only sound remaining and echoing through space was the sound of Don McClean singing:

“Starry, Starry Night”

Compelling Companion Colliding Comets

I’m always continually struck by the roll of the dice that, on the surface, seems to create the circumstances that bring another person into your life. And I’m also very aware that a lot of what happens with these intersecting collisions is set in motion by internal yearnings, desires, thoughts and dreams within the two individuals that are going to meet as they start to be propelled towards one another. In a lot of ways, your beingness and radiating energy  attracts the paths of both of you to meet at just the right moment.  Too soon, and you miss them entirely.  Too late and you perhaps watch them in the rearview mirror and feel their turbulent wake as they disappear over the horizon, never to experience what they might have had to offer you.

That wake is as palpable as the vibratory wave that sways you from side to side in the aftermath of a boat powering through in close proximity or the air bounce you get from a fast moving plane that misses you by just a little. But if your energy is in magnetic resonance with a nearby soul, the two of you are compelled to swing into each other’s paths as your orbits intersect in perfect timing. This convergence gives a rhythmic bump to the music of both your bodies that creates an opening. If the both of you then breathe deeply into that music you start a synchronized dance with the other almost as though your hearts are beating as one. Vibratory excitation would be a good way to describe it.

One of the things that has made my journey seemingly a charmed one has been having a little female spirit at my side urging me to take a deep breath and let go of trying to control things.

Throughout my life I have been aided by this fairy godmother, whose whispers in my ear seemed to influence my timing so well that it made running into the next person, event or energetic fireworks seem effortless and pre-ordained. To clarify a little, she was more like a lover than a mother. She had the looks of a dream lover to me. Her ethereal body was built like a little pixie, with small, perky breasts, slim waist, soft lips and, of course, red hair. The interesting part was that I could feel her physical presence pressed in between my shoulder blades like a 7/8 scale human, but I couldn’t actually touch her in a tangible way. I’d still get the pleasure of feeling the heat of her body against me and the little murmurs in my ear as to how she saw things.  I guess you could say she was my Jiminy Cricket but oh so much more fun than an insect on my shoulder. She was sheer exuberant joyfulness packaged in a pint sized body and she enjoyed showing me how to play and listen to my intuition.

You can go ahead and think I’m playing with a few cards less than a full deck if you’d like.  I went cuckoo brains a long time ago and it hasn’t seemed to have gotten in my way of being productive and enjoying life.

To sum up, if “follow your intuition” is a concept, she was and is the embodiment of that directive in a most delightful and energizing way.

The next part of this story shows what happens when my orbiting comet is on track to run head long into a real flesh and blood young woman in Southeast Missouri. The collision of our shooting stars would light up the skies in our mind and bring new inspirational energy into both of our lives.

Smoky Mountain Soliloquy

As my mother sat down at the table and handed me the phone, I could see the pleased look she had on her face that she got when talking with her youngest sister, Betty. Their conversations easily bridged the long distance from Southeast Missouri to the foothills of Western North Carolina. There was quite a stretch of ages over the 8 Justus sisters, all of them independent and free spirited women. In fact, when my mother, Rose Mae, was married in ’42, Betty was 4 while Rose was 22. All Betty remembered about the gathering was walking up to the wedding cake and sticking her finger into it. The taste of the sweet centerpiece had made her swoon and she thought getting married could be a pretty delicious experience.

What Betty had to say sounded pretty delicious to me as well.  Her voice was gracious and overcame the miles and lack of eye contact.

“John, I think you should just come out here and enjoy the summertime sun and coolness of the mountain air”.

I was immediately interested in moving to a cooler, more temperate, climate. I’d really never gotten used to Missouri weather. You got broiled and baked in the summertime and iced over in the wintertime. The meteorology of the area seemed pretty darned uncompromising, as if it were a stubborn Missouri mule.

But there was more to it than that. The sound of Betty’s Southern drawl  and talk of the Smokies brought back memories of childhood trips to my Grandparent’s little farm on the outskirts of Hendersonville. The youthful experiences of being in refreshing air, splashing in a little brook, enjoying the swing that was tied to an ancient apple tree were still vibrant in my memory. We kids would race around the orchards,  play up in the hay barn and then run into the house for Grandmama’s steaming chicken or roast, hot  mashed potatoes and finish deliriously with warm apple pie plus vanilla ice cream on it.

I loved that Mountainaire region. I loved the cool, sweet nights, where you’d need to actually put a blanket and a quilt on in the summer as the temperature dropped just enough to make for “good sleepin’ weather”. If you ventured just a bit out of town in the Spring, you’d be on waterfall lined roads that ascended into the hills. It was, to sum up, a little slice of heaven.

Betty continued:

“We have friends who run a summer Boy’s Camp. It’s really nicely placed on Lake Summit, just south of us here in Tuxedo. I think you would really enjoy the scenery and camp life. My friends really need someone to teach art for the boys and you’d have a rent free cabin to sleep in.”

That settled it. My mind was already moved into that cabin. As I contemplated the lake in the hills, the background music in my bedroom started to fill with James Taylor singing:

“I’m Going To Carolina In My Mind”

I breathed deeply into that song and realized, once again, that relaxation was an art and I was pretty good at it. It would come in handy in the approaching months.