Lost Pages, Sky Dancer Soliloquy

It is said I was born from the tears of a divine one who wept for the suffering of the world. If this is so, then perhaps it is proper that I should, myself, be of so many parts and pieces; aspects of all-seeing and all-being, each one finding its perfect other within this world, with which and in which to best be relieved and reconciled – being a drop of water that is a mirror of endless reflections.

I cannot say I know it to be true, but I can say this — until you have spent life as a drop of water, you cannot know what it is to dream of the ocean. And until you have given yourself without reservation, you cannot know what it is to receive fully.

I find this is the way of most life — a rushing urgency toward an unknown totality that can never be reached because it is never more than a wisp, a flash of light, a dream, a mote upon the wind.

This is, of course, why I weep, and why I remain. A single drop in which many droplets coalese, colored and dancing across the sky. So that those who lift their faces may find me and in me, find themselves.

It is difficult to correctly speak of myself, as I do not exist…. even as in every moment, I am as you are, and we dance our fierce and fevered steps upon the path. All the same, I still weep for it, because so often, you believe yourself lost. I hear you, as you shake and cry, seeing fuzzily that there are so many paths and how, many times, you think that you have forgotten which you are on, or you think it possible you could be lost.

It is impossible. But you do not know it. And it is for this that I cry. But it is also why I dance. A benefit to being as I am is that I can and do exist in many ways. Aspects all, but complete freedom in it.

Droplet in this moment, rock in the next, splinter in yet another. It matters not, they are all the same but that you cannot see them so.

In the sky and of the sky, they are the same. Above you and below you, they are the same. Within you and without you, they are the same. And I am there, in each, in all, with you. The same.

Here, I am splinters — scattered across the void. My many pieces find your tender soles, lodge in your fingers, and you weep because you think they torment you. And I weep because you find only torment in my presence.

The wise ones will say that compassion is painful when one is obscured, but it is no less compassion for it. It makes me smile, but also sigh, for it is not a thing one will hear when afflicted. Wisdom is a curse upon first hearing, an insult upon the second, an annoyance upon the third, and only after many hearings and lessons of experience does one find insight enough to realize it as blessing.

My many splinters, they show you the path. They impede your panicked sprint, and in truth, I do not always prick you. You feel me painfully only when you must. In other moments, you simply walk upon me. Then, I am a reed mat; comfort and closeness and indicator that you are, indeed, upon the path…. for I am never other than of it.

But I am not always splinters. Thankfully. Many of the world call me colors and set upon my name meanings and manifestations that speak not as much to who I am, but of who they are and where they are in relation to me.

Markers, if you will.

They name me elemental and link color to name. Thus when I am seen peaceful and nourishing, I am white as purest light. When I am seen active with benefit, I am green as your earth. When I am seen powerful, I am black as the void you fear. Red, when I am enchanting and magnetizing, Yellow when I am bestowing riches and contentment, Blue when turning your anger to wisdom, and many others besides these common ones.

The analogies are many and powerful. As am I. As are you. The same.

I am often named fire; that which burns and destroys. But the wiser mind speaks more tenderly, realizing that fire does not destroy, it transmutes, it changes and it liberates. It is only the mind that sees what is as all that could or should be. It is only ego that would demand permanence in a multiverse where the only thing that does not change is that all things change.

But yes, I am fire, too. Actually, we are…. each of us, all of us. We are sparks of an infinite inferno, resonating with our purpose and our perceptions. We call to one another and in this way, bring all things needed to find the way. We answer one another and in this way, despite our own impediments, are succor and service to one another.

Incense and incensed, we burn, but it is through that burning that you too, reach the sky. Which is why I am as willing to burn you as bolster you, and why, no matter how you curse me in any moment, I am your best friend, your most ardent lover, as well as your nemesis.

I am your desire, your despair, your dreams, and your destiny… I chase the sun and taunt you to catch me if you can, knowing that by the time you think to try, you have already manifested what is need to succeed. Knowing that in that moment you reach me, in the breath before you catch me, the last and most exquisite delight arrives as, worn and weary, flaring and enflamed, you find the bliss of fulfillment and in the act of passing through it, enlightenment.

Most times you fear to look upon me, seeing all the things you think you cannot be or become… but you are already each and every one of them. Curse me if you must, heap your disdain and anger upon me, the world is yours… consume it. And when you are ready, cast yourself into this sky, this heaven, this forever… and show me by at last showing yourself.

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