Am I developing clairvoyant powers? Or was it just coincidence?
Here’s what happened: Yesterday I went out to my back deck in the forest, surrounded by waterfalls and flowers, and laid out my yoga mat. I lit candles and …
So tonight, I lift a glass to my ol’ hip… (or if not a glass, a Tramadol). It’s been a good hip, grown two amazing souls, been the source of endless dancing pleasure and supported me now for half a century. It’s time for my to go to hip heaven… Hip Hip Hooray! (Just kidding- surgery sucks, but I’m told the pain-free existence afterwards is well worth it. I’ll let you know.)
’s been 22 days since my hip replacement surgery, and the hardest part is slowing down. I want to be healed. I want to dance, to stretch, to slide into bed without tweaking pain, to sleep on any side I choose. I want to jump into the ocean and then slide into a hot bubble bath.
I just want to be next to her, to read to her, put my arms around her, to feel my heart near hers, and pretend that her brain will come back and she will remember who I am, even for one bittersweet moment.
Last week I attended my first wedding as a divorcee, and I wasn’t expecting the cascading waves of mixed emotions. I was happy for my niece of course, and I do adore romance and beauty, but there were moments at the wedding that were zings of pain, like little divorce bees were flying around, stinging me here and there…
My Mom could never understand why I felt compelled to jump into adventures in faraway lands, and she would say, “Oh Marci, how do you do that? How do you dare to go to these places by yourself? Aren’t you scared?” This perplexed me, because when I travel, I feel the opposite of scared. When I embark on an adventure into the unknown, I feel more at home than I do at home
And now, after all the tremendous loss I’ve experienced the past few years, when I felt so crushed with heartbreak and loss, and so far away from that girl I used to be, the girl spinning with her golden wings, that girl with the jewels on her hips; now I feel like Isis was standing vigil next to me all this time, her wings spread, silently fanning me back to life. It has taken me a long long time to stand back up, but I’m still here, and my wings are spread, and every time I dance, and share my story with others, I am fanning them with my own shimmering gold.
So now, it was 2am in the middle of a remote forest in Norway, with snow so deep it could swallow me whole, and I’m riding on the back of a young man, surrounded by thick pine trees soaring straight into the sky. It was cold, and a little scary, but the adventure of it all outweighed the fear.
Did he see the ordinary church and reinterpret it his way?
Or did he look at the building and see centuries of wishes, hopes, tears, and prayers all swirling together into a vibrant mind-bending dazzling cloud, bursting with sacred irreverence … the church and the art soothing jagged-edged souls and healing broken hearts, century after century… generation after generation…
We climbed higher and higher, the air smelling fresher and crisper, until we finally arrived in the tiny Bavarian town.
It smelled like home, with the lush forests covering the mountains, the smell of evergreen, wildflowers and even a touch of snow that stays on the highest peak, even in the middle of summer.
