I’m sitting on a park bench watching the throngs of people hurriedly strolling by. The warmth of the winter sun, revitalising my senses. The dull lethargy of earlier slowly peeling away. Layer by thin layer.
It feels as though I’ve been buried. Buried under a list of overwhelming and mostly unfulfilling commitments. Dragged down by a sense of duty, like a leaf caught up in the current of life. “Going where?” I wonder.
The art of improv has become my forte’. “Who do I need to show up as today?” “What version of my being would be useful for you to see?”
The heat from the warm bench edges slowly into my core. A wisp of my fringe flutters in a nippy breeze against my brow.
I’m distracted by the sing-song murmurs bellowing from the path. Three teenage faces brimming with enthusiasm, advancing energetically. Each different, but the same. Dressed in unison; hair long straight and flowing, shoes the same style in various colourways. Shaped by glossy magazines, inspired by reality shows. Trying so hard to fit in. To NOT stand out. I catch a glimpse of uniqueness in each: sunshades inspired by the 80’s, a ying-yang ring, nail polish a yester year shade of red. Minute. But there.
“What are the talents each of you bring to the world? What opportunities would open up to you if you allowed your true selves to shine through? Aren’t you more than regurgitated thoughts and gestures? Isn’t the risk of being different, enticing?”
“Are you happy?” I wonder. My heart achingly urging each one to pursue a grandiose plan to break the mould and authentically live into their wondrous futures.
A man, striding purposefully laptop and wallet in hand, catches my eye. Enrobed in a classic suit and red tie. “Is he on his way to an endless string of meetings? What could be the looming deadline causing his lips to purse? Is he more than spreadsheets, solutions and diplomatic words?”
“Is he happy?” I wonder. My mind telepathically imploring him to chase a grandiose strategy to break free from his imposed uniform.
I hear a creak to my right. A weight shift on the wooden beam that I’m perched on. I slowly turn to gaze into kindness and wisdom. Timid eyes touched by sadness, enforced by determination, brimming with a quiet strength. Silver grey hair shimmering in the dimpled light.
“What could be the stories of this graceful being? The sights she’s seen? The things she’s done? The people she’s loved? The worlds she’s created? Do you still trust in yourself not hampered by society’s conditioned thinking of age? Do you still share your gifts which never die but which only grow richer with time?”
“Are you happy?” I wonder. My soul energies imploring her to not dismiss the idea of a full and rich tomorrow.
A leaf tumbles from above and lands on my lap. My manicured nails covered with dehydrated ochre crumblings. As I shuffle uncomfortably on my seat, my Jimmy Choo stilettos crunch more of the same.
“Am I happy?” I wonder. “Who am I in my natural form? Where do I belong? Is it a place?” I question.
I feel the warmth from a touch. A slender hand from the Grand Dame beside me, slowly brushes away the dehydrated copper remnants from my palm. Reassuring gentleness. Connection in action. No words, just energy.
A calmness and a realisation invades my mind. “Isn’t it more about a meeting of souls and being present to each other, authentically? Accepting, fearless, void of repercussions. A space of love and acceptance. Starting with self and extending to beings of all forms. Yes let’s call it a space.”
“I see you buried soul. I honour you Grand Dame. I accept you suited being. I love you vivacious teen. You enrich and belong in my world.”
Read more of my musings at Tanya’s Two Cents