Somewhere in inner space stands a doorway. Cross at exactly the thirteenth hour and you may find your own everywhen home, exactly as you like it. This is mine, a woodlands cottage I retreat to when I hanker after my fireside, books, candles and the aroma of food cooked on a real wood stove. It is a real place somewhere on the globe and also above it...
Monday, January 01, 2007
JOURNAL: of the beloved
A dream came to me which was more a visitation, the beloved came and wore a known face, one that would not be denied in its urgency to enter my life again, to be accepted once again in spite of much grief and loss. I think it was the poem to Inanna which brought me the happiness of seeing the much loved being again before me, of hearing all the words so tenderly spoken before and new ones asking to return. The hair swung as it once did, to be caught in my hand. The arms held me and conveyed the longing of ages past, until the painful memories were erased and I realised that opening ones heart is not only possible but inevitable. Blessed Inanna, timely and wise. You know the unspoken hunger of the heart and the exact shape and scent of the beloved of each heart. The season will come once again and we shall be trees in full bloom. A testimony to Your might and to Your healing.
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