The Faint Fragrance

 "All day I think about it, 

then at night I say it.

Where did I come from, 

and what am I supposed to be doing?

My soul is from elsewhere,

I am sure of that,

and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.

When I get back to that place,

I'll be completely sober.

Meanwhile,

I am like a bird from another continent,

sitting in this aviary.

The day is coming when I fly off,

but who is it now in my ear,

who hears my voice?

Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes?

What is the soul?

I cannot stop asking.

If I could taste one sip of an answer, 

I could break out of this prison for drunks.

I didn't come here of my own accord,

and I can't leave that way.

Whoever brought me here,

will have to take me home."

R U M I

This is how the divine speaks:

When I journal, I never have a plan. 

Usually, I am pent up and frustrated when I approach my journal. I have something to say ~ to myself and to the world ~ but words and ideas are knotted within me.

With these pages I started with some leftover pink, gift tissue. It was sitting there on the table. I was sick of looking at it, but didn't want to find a place to put it away. So I ripped it and pasted it to the page. 

Then I squirted some gesso on it and smeared it with my fingers.

After it dried, I felt an urge to write.

I was remembering a dream I had not very long ago, where I went off on a boat into the universe and spoke with a presence I have known from the beginning of time. I didn't want to leave, but the presence made me, telling me that the perfect connection and balance and love I was experiencing in that moment... I had to bring it back into the world with me. 

I wept.

The boat left again, without me, and I woke up.

I have wanted that experience back.

On the pages I wrote to that presence. 

"Where are you?"

"You told me to be that love in the world, but I don't know how."

"Once you were gone, I felt empty."

I wrote them in soft pink, so they couldn't really be read by anybody, lest they think me mad.

Then I was stuck and frustrated again. I didn't know what next to do with the page.

So I went for a walk.

It was just before sunset. The heat of the day had cooled. There was laughter and splashing water in the park. There was a breeze. There was the faint fragrance of that presence laced softly upon that breeze. I felt embraced. A country songbird fluttered along beside me. 

Yes! A bird! A bird goes on that page!

I walked home and finished the page.

I take my photos of the page, upload them to the computer, open up TypePad, and think, "What do I say about this? How do I convey this message?"

Again, I do not even know where to begin.

Something moved me to my book of Rumi. I opened the book right to the page with this poem on it.

And that was exactly what I was trying to say all along!

Namaste,

C H E Z

Comments

[EVA]

A beautiful journal page with such great synchronicity, Shannan!

Very nice poem - maybe I need to start reading Rumi!

Hauntingly lovely entry.

[lynda howells]

l love your work..always so deep and meaningful, beautiful, and yet always leaves me thinking about what you have written and what you are feeling.i am not sure l have made sense but ..! Just know l am thinking about youxxlynda

[Stephanie-Deliberately Creative]

All I can say is WOW! Your work is so well executed. I love seeing and hearing about the process you took to get to the finished product. Thank you for sharing!