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June 16, 2010

Written on September 8th 2004

As I lay in the bath-tub tonight, I felt the urge to drum under the water. A very primordial and extremely strong and complex rhythm came out.I was able to hold it effortlessly and the message I got was that I have perfect rhythm anytime I want it.

I rose from the water, perfectly on cue and reached with my toes to release the drain plug. As the water gurgled away, I sat, up-right, a small towel, dripping with hot-water and the faint smell of sandal-wood, draped over my face.

In that pose, it dawned on me that the beat of the gurgle, with it’s snaps, crackles and deep cone sounds, was almost exactly the beat I had been playing. There was an obvious layer of cosmic chaos, but it was a thin veneer.

I realized, with a deep sense of belonging,  how a part of me was forever flowing away from me, back to the mix and spread again, for ever, into the waters of the world.

I wanted to feel what those bits of me felt and so followed them, with my awareness, into the mouth of the pipe, into the gurgling, eerie and totally fascinating darkness.

I flowed with the water into bigger and bigger pipes, mixing all the time, low and high life, rich and poor waste, all together again. And rightfully so.

It was hard to see the light in the “muck” at first, but as I stayed with the revulsion, my perspective shifted and light, dim at first and them more and brighter surrounded me. With every new mixing, new light and intensity.

All this time, the water is playing it’s beat and the tub and walls create crazy overtones from rapid reflections and often harmonious interference. It sounded like every channel on the radio was on simultaneously. Languages, genres,  sexes, ages, all blended in a weird harmony.

And suddenly, with an urgent peaking, the water ran out and in a previously crowded spectrum, there was absolute silence.

I sat there, un-distracted and in the silence, my belly glowing with burnished gold, I was told this:

As the light reaches the darkest corners, the spiders will recede, almost by magic. It is not for us to seek where they go.

As people dust out their lives, inward and outward, sweeping the cob-webs away, the light will shine, brighter every day.

And smiling gleefully, Great Grandmother Spider will take  it all back, in-winding the web she wove, timeless days ago.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. DanWyns permalink
    June 16, 2010 12:14 pm

    Good prose originates in the heart. Such as your post. Well done, sir.

    • June 16, 2010 12:45 pm

      🙂 will respond to your mail in due course. Please check out PRARE.

  2. Nadall permalink
    July 31, 2011 7:58 pm

    Aw. Just look at that. Water drums … and then some. Beautiful.

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