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In a small Native American mission I become fascinated
with lighted candles placed on the edge of a beautiful
garden. Each one lit with good intentions. I speak
my simple prayer and back away with a question in
my mind. Does anyone hear the meaning of the inner
voice or does it echo into emptiness.
I wonder whose breath it is that blows out the
candles. In a vision I see an image a gentle stranger
with a loving heart that watches over them. This
soul lets them burn into the night, allowing only
the wind to blow them out. One who finds the flame
too sacred for human breath?
As the points of light extinguish the prayers join
the breeze bringing each one of them to their destination.
Listen to the words of those who have lit their
candle and like me backed away from the flame.
The first candle.
At my birth was my life celebrated, bound in love,
resignation, shame or joy?
The first point of light represents innocent spirits.
A small white candle flickers yet refuses to die.
This is the wordless prayer offered by a small
child held in her father's arms.
Amongst the prayers were ones for dying parents,
sick children, lost and hopeful loves. Prayers for
the poor, victims of war, prayers for peace and
understanding.
The second candle
I stand in my crib looking out through a diamond
shaped window. The glass has colors and a clear
space for me to see, if I stand on my tiptoes, snow
that looks like falling stars. I have been here
watching for a long time. I wonder if anyone remembers
who I am.
I lie on my side silently gripping the crib bars
patiently waiting. I wait for someone to find me.
There is no memory of their coming but I am found.
Thank you gentle spirit for the one who found me.
The third candle
I remember his words:
"What did you say your name is?" I am
too scared to say. "You must be stupid or something
if you don't even know your own name. He pushes
me up against the wall.
I hide my face, I want to climb under a chair and
hide in the corner - I am ashamed of myself - It
is in the face of another that names me worthless.
It is I who breathes in the shame.
Help me to remember - In spite of another's words,
I have value.
The fourth candle
"What did your face look like before your
ancestors were born?" the man speaks with a
controlled, finely toned and hypnotic voice.
I stand listening to the Sufi story as if in a
trance - I gaze across a sea of one thousand faces
- serene, loving - listening with their hearts.
Inside I am wishing that no one will ever wake
me, life as I dream it will never end and someone
will always love me.
I enjoy my illusion as I face the table lined with
red and black madras material - Shadows dance on
the altar of what appears to be liberation.
Thank you for whatever this is -
The fifth candle
My baby on my hip, my breasts heavy with milk.
. There is no shame within me. I am in a natural
state of being.
A woman sashays by to take the baby from me - She
looks enough like me with her long blond hair -
the baby barely notices the change of arms.. I think
she is beautiful unlike my own dull face.
A strange man, puts his arm around my waist, pulls
me tight and whispers in my ear "God love you
baby."
We sway to the music; he looks into my eyes but
does not see me. I don't want to be seen - I want
to blend into his secret society by simply belonging.
I am intoxicated with ideology, incense and the
music, lingo, rituals - pageantry, It is only in
the darkness that I dare to question - what it is
that I am catches me somewhere in my gut.
Thank you for my woman's body. Even when it brings
me pain.
The sixth candle
Across the table from me sits a person that I love.
She is family - the bond so strong with promises
that seem as if they can never be broken.
I hear her words "my life is full. I do not
need you." Inside I think - "but you want
me right? I am family."
She turns her head slightly; her earring catches
the light from the lamp. In an instant, her eyes
darken.
I want to scream, "why are you doing this
to me?
A part of me knows this is out of my hands - My
heart breaks as she walks away. My little child
part wants to run after her and cry. "Please
don't leave me here alone."
My face turns red as if I have been slapped. The
shame inside overwhelms my senses.
Gentle spirit help me to someday understand, what
in this moment is impossible to know.
The seventh candle
I dream of a dark cave. Although I am afraid, I
enter willingly. Inside I find light in the form
of a fire reflected in a triangle of pure water.
I bask in the beauty of welcoming light. With my
heart I attempt to trace the dreams images believing
them to be outside me. With my head I try to figure
out the meaning of the symbols.
In a confused state I fall deeply into a dark and
murky well, filled with the unknown.
I long to return to the lighted triangle of water
where I experienced courage and clarity.
I awake with the inner knowing that the choice
belongs to me. I can stay in the darkness of an
abandoned well or return to the certainty of my
inner world where there is a safe and sacred place
that I alone created within the imagery of my dream.
This prayer honors healing dreams
The eighth candle
This candle is lit in honor of the well-intended
life. I confess that I have lived imperfectly. I
celebrate all of my choices, even when they looked
to others like mistakes.
I give thanks to those who love me, those to whom
I have made no difference and to those who hate
me. I am grateful to all for lessons learned.
As for any successes I might have had according
to what the world defines as success, I bow humbling
before god and give her all the credit.
The ninth candle
With shallow breath I watch the shadows darken
on the mission wall. I feel the heavy lateness of
a day now nearly gone.
I pray that someone will come to mercifully blow
out my candle for it is too sacred for my human
breath. Like the others the tender of the flame,
leaves it for the night wind. With courage I wait
and with the shallowest of breath I inhale my own
extinguished flame.
I imagine the prayers of others drifting through
me, resonating and moving to a space beyond. They
are both known and unknown, understood, misunderstood,
loved and unloved.
The idea of creative writing exercises to be
used in combination with a daily meditation is something
that I use myself and suggest to clients.
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