The North Wind Blows

“The highest form of human evolution is the presence of peace.  Where there is peace there is love… where there is love there is truth… and where there is truth there is liberation.”  santidevi


Back in the city that steals my breath.  I cocoon myself.  Closed shades and thick bed linens, the comfort of a darkened room. Soaking in a porcelain tub I imagine floating beneath a star studded sky. I feel the growing distance of my heart to this place I have called home. Even its familiarity is unsettling.


I sift the once ripe and blackened soil now pale and fine, it falls through my fingers into soft mounds.  My living has never been more precarious.  Even this truth will not ignite the “fight or flight” of the physiology meant to keep my pulse beating. The fire of alchemy reduces me to ash, and my body sighs.


Six months nearly to the day.  February 9th 2010.  A one way ticket to Dublin Ireland.


Julian Lee, a famed locational astrologer…  He is initially perplexed by the configuration of stars that has left me a rootless gypsy. He concludes that the U.S. is an astrologically challenging location! International? After more exhaustive research he determines that the western coast of Ireland is where I will find my true belonging.  My heart awakens.


Is it possible that there is a place on this planet that my mystic soul can call home?  Where my work will be nourished and supported?  Have the stars been waiting for me to align myself into a constellation of destiny.  I see myself a little brown sparrow in monochromatic glory pecking at one bread crumb after the other all the way across the Atlantic.


Storing the artifacts of my collected life.  The objects of human need and desire.  I have loved these belongings for their function and beauty, for the relative comfort they have provided all these years.  They have been hauled in my sister’s horse trailer all the way to Taos over La Veta pass, in cardboard boxes in the back of my old 64 white Ford pickup, in borrowed vehicles and Uhaul’s generously paid for by others.  I try to visualize my life boxed and stacked, stored, locked and labeled. I smell the non- moving air, a windowless space where even dust won’t settle.  My alters wrapped in the daily news, hidden beneath the print that will fade in time.  Will they be able to breathe.  Will I?


This new adventure holds all the terror and all the unknown of first love.  Who will I meet when I board the train from Dublin to Galway City?  How will I root in a place that only allows for a three month tourist visa?  How will I support myself?  The effort to respond to what is beginning to feel like a personal interrogation just isn’t there.  I simply don’t have the answers.  I don’t know how I will form a new life.  What I do know is that the land is diverse, fertile and green…even palm trees have found mooring in its northern latitude.  I remind myself that I have never known the “HOW” of anything!  Perhaps my faith is reckless… Clearly from the perspective of “other,” it is, if nothing else, irresponsible wanderlust.  At least I have been consistent in making other people question the sanity of my endeavors.


santidevi