by Silvia Hartmann
Perhaps I tell a story from a very distant time but not so distant space, from a place that is sufficiently not like our own to make it relevant and valid, vivid and even green or blue perhaps, or even ultraviolet, indeed.
A place where beings roam, big, ponderous beings, slow moving across the endless plains of azure, drifting, shifting awarenesses of purpose and passion quite unlike whatever we may know or suspect.
These beings are following an ancient route, a pilgrimage as old as dawn of time itself, they have a purpose in their journey which is all there is and never does it end, it never rests for such a thought would be unthinkable, insane, and should it happen that a being lost its way and disconnected from the river of their pathways, it would wither, parch and die, bewildered, helpless and in utter chaos of confusion, utter lack of understanding as to what it was without the river travel and the others of its kind.
But such occurrences are not just rare, they are in fact a never, for this has not happened since the dawn of time, it never could and never will, and only our human thoughts could paint a vision of such bleak, unnatural unfoldments - so let us keep our thoughts at bay!
Let us not bring our species' chaos with us into these extraordinary realms where only joy and benediction are conceived as every day experiences, and grace and ecstasy occur just as the bye the bye, expected, gratefully received by all.
We watch the beings, young and ancient, slow and steady as they dance with their excitement and their purpose power, upon their pathway, weaving slowly to each other and themselves, each seeking always to enhance the truth of their connection with the rushing rivers venerated by their footfalls, tapestry enfoldments glide their smooth and flowing shapes from one becoming to the next, their vibrant world awareness wide and so expansive, reaching, stretching as they find the next place that they flow into from one breath to the next, from one stout beating of their great hearts to the other.
And as we watch them pass on by, we hear their song of many voices, telling tales and playing with the patterns of the air, re-writing these, inscribing these with their glad messages in passing, building up a choir and a chorus, bright and raising resonance that stays right here and waits for more connections when the beings pass to weave another stage of tapestry, not here and now, not there, tomorrow, but right forever and a day, a night ...
So rest, be still and sleep now here amidst the flowing plains and feel their wisdom, listen to their song and we might learn, or we might simply be amazed.
© Silvia Hartmann 2003