Saturday, March 05, 2011

love melts - "should" rebells - the core of self

I should do this.... I really should,.... but I don't. 
This is the wise choice....but I don't take it. 
This is the right and honourable thing to do.....
but I don't do it... 
2006 Tropical bloom

Sound familiar ? 
Yes ? 
then read on, if not, this blog will prob bore you. 

I've wondered why this is such a familiar story, in my own life and that of others I talk to. 
Then it came to me: 
Perhaps what is happening is that the center and the Core BEing of a person is truly free.
A "SHOULD do this..." and a " THIS IS THE RIGHT THING DO TO DO IT..." carry as a subtext the hidden implied dagger to the throat that says "OR I WILL NOT LOVE YOU, RESPECT YOU ANYMORE." meaning "I will not love and respect myself anymore". 

There is an implied forcing, there is an implied "or else...." in all those "should" and "Ought" words. 
Something that says  "or else...." 
and the deep wordless, soundless, pure and free Core BEing of a person does not listen to FORCE. 
That does not mean it never complies or submits. 
I had  this insight AFTER I read the section of the story below: 

In the first part of the story, there is the external voice says "do this thing, it is wise.... " or "you should do that..." 
She does not. 
In the second part of the story there is a new angle... 

Story extract: 
She walked through her own  life as a stranger, watching herself in a waking dream.
‘....let go the empty shell of the past...thou art living a dead  memory...’, a sound thought like burning paper in her mind, ‘....go !’ .
She shook her head, ‘I cannot...’.

Troubled, that evening she went to the pool in the garden.  This pool, this part of the garden, was HER private place, he had never followed her here.
Large trees surrounded it, and thirteen stone columns supported the great dome above the heaving waters.

It was quiet, the wind was mellow, carrying the scent of spices from faraway places. Silvery gray vapour in slowly swirling circles hovered over the waters, never quite touching it. ‘…………beautiful.........’, she thought and shivered.

Gaps in the vapour blanket revealed the water beneath, rising and falling like the chest of someone in deep slumber. The water was pure and clear as delicate glass shimmering like a gemstone.

The pool knew her, it remembered her. She walked quietly around the perimeter, staying, in the shadows, avoiding looking directly into it. It came to her then, 'I don’t want to know... not yet...not truly...  '

From a long way, she saw Sari approach. She slowed down and stopped some distance away.
“What are you doing here ?” she asked Sari.  No one had ever followed her here, this was her private domain.  
The look on Sari’s face was strange, her eyes were looking straight through her.
She had never seen Sari look this way.
“Sari ! What is it ?”.
Sari backed away from her, “nothing”, she whispered.
Quohaim turned around. There was nothing behind her.
It was her that Sari looked at so strangely.
“Sari, - what’s wrong ? Stop this !”
 “I’ve not seen you like this before”, Sari said her voice thin and airy.

'Like what ?' Quohaim felt annoyed.
She looked about, but everything was as she knew it.
Her wide eyes focussed on her, Sari walked away backwards.
“Sari, stop this !”
Sari shook her head, turned and ran back to the house.
Quohaim followed a few steps, then stopped.
Sari had acted as though she was terrified of her, Quohaim.
Something was wrong.

She walked back and sat by the side of the pool.  Its surface was coved in white mist.
From here she could barely see the house, hidden by huge old trees.
The white mists cleared and her reflection shimmered below her.
It was her face though faint and hard to see.
She sighed and shook her head.
She was not ready to look deeply into the waters.

Something else intruded on her awareness.
Watching her faint shimmering reflection in the water she felt a presence surround her, like a half remembered dream it hovered around her.
She reached about herself, nothing.
Then she noticed what she had feared: Deep in the water, far below the surface hovered the faint image of another face, watching her intently, its eyes speaking to her.
She shook her head, 'no'.
The eyes of the other continued to look at her. She felt pain in her heart.
She knew what the message was, but she did not want know.
'I'm not ready, not yet.'
And still those  eyes looked into her soul.
"No!" She disturbed the smooth the smooth surface of the water with a sharp slap of her palm.
Instantly the mists gathered and obscured everything.

She was shocked at herself.
Never ever had she refused the wisdom of the pool.
She had always trusted it's wisdom and it had always guided her well.
Very well.
She had had a charmed life.
Then he had been taken away.
That was too much.

She paced around the pool. Her mind a whirl of thoughts.
She remembered, the wisdom of the pool had never led her astray.
But this time she could not heed its wisdom.
'I am alone.'
Fury welled up inside her.
She stopped walking and looked down at the white mists.
"I would have given my life for his,"  she said, "but you would not have it. You took the one thing I could not give you. That you had to take. Why ?"
The leaves of the old trees  rustled, the wind carried the scent of far away places.
She shook her head.
"WHY ?" she hissed in red hot fury, "WHY? WHY ? WHY ?"
She bent down to pick up a rock and stopped when she heard her name called from far away.

 “Haim....”, -  the call drifted in the air.
Taking a deep breath, Quohaim turned and looked in the direction of the house.
The air was cold and damp, dew covered her clothes.
Sari stood in the clearing between two huge trees.
“What ?”, the word come out as a hoarse croak.
Cautiously, slowly Sari approached her.
“You’ve been here for hours.”

Quohaim nodded, “I know.”
Her body ached all over. She leaned against a pillar, letting her head rest against the cool stone.
She dropped the stone.
Sari came closer and bent over the edge of the pool to see inside.
Thick white mists covered the entire surface.
She reached down to feel them.
Sari jerked her hand back.
“It’s icy cold !”.
She kneaded her injured fingers with her other hand.
“Yes. – The mists are very cold” .
Sari tilted her head sideways and scrutinized her friend.
“Why ?...”, Quohaim murmured, her head still touching the stone.
Then  she drew a deep breath and pushed herself off the pillar.
Sari touched her shoulder and looked at her.  Then she wrapt an arm around Quohaim’s waist and pulled her towards the house.

Quohaim shook her head.
"Listen to me," she whispered, " I want to ask you something."
Sari narrowed her eyes and nodded.
"Let's say I go to your house and you offer me everything. You show me jewels, gold, houses, land, horses, you even offer me your life,  except one thing. "
Sari nodded, she knew what was coming.
"One thing, you keep for yourself, that is the only thing you do not offer me." She gripped both of Sari's shoulders. "And that one thing is what I ask for.  I take it from you by force."
Sari nodded slowly.
"What do you think of me ?  Am I still a good friend ?"
"Come." Sari tugged her friend gently.
"Answer me !" Quohaim refused to me, her eyes wild she looked at Sari.
Sari shook her head and tugged at her to come with her.
"Answer me damn you !", Quohaim sobbed, then covered her face with her hands.
Sari  waited and led her gently back to the house.

She lived life because she had to. It was painful but bearable, until the first courtship offer arrived. Then she felt as though the ground beneath her had given way.

“Impossible”, she told Sari, “he doesn’t know me at all. What the hell is he thinking, coming to me with an offer like that !”
Sari smiled, “of course not Haim, not yet. It will take a while.”
“You too ?”, she shook her head, "never !”
Sari held her gaze, “wait and see ........”.
‘You don’t really know me at all’, Quohaim thought, ‘he is with me still’.

She declined the gentleman’s offer.
“How can he think of me that way ?” she asked herself, "how do  I look to them ?"

From that day on she felt a greater distance between herself and the world.
She observed a woman called Quohaim living life on her behalf, doing what was expected, laughing, smiling, working on council business, but none of it touched the real Quohaim inside. That one was watching and waiting for something.
That one felt restless.   

She stopped in front of her bedroom mirror and thought about her life to this point.
Wavy hair framed her face, cascading down her back. The eyes looking back at her were not afraid of power and authority, they looked at her without wavering, without fear.
“What's wrong ?”, asked the face looking back at her.
“Nothing ! I am a leader in this city, respected, envied and ...”, she smiled at herself, “still beautiful.”
"Do you really care about that ?" she asked her image.
Her face stared back at her, and she felt afraid of the truth in its eyes.
‘No’, she shook her head and hid her face in her hands.    
She looked up again determined to face those eyes in the mirror.
"Other's think I am beautiful. What do YOU think ?" she asked her face.
"Is that who you are, beautiful ?"
She looked deeper into those eyes.
She felt a presence behind those eyes, someone she had known all her life.
A living force lit up those eyes - 'my eyes' she thought.
She felt a magnetic force, invisible but strong, her life force.
She saw herself making ready to run, to leave the room again.
"Who are you ?" she asked the image.
There was an answer, but no words, she felt it.
She was accepted, welcome !
She had steeled herself against judgement but kindness and gentleness she had no defence against. It surprised her.
It dissolved all resistance, all fear in her.
Fascinated by her own eyes, she looked deeper.
The eyes in the mirror looked back.
She felt drawn into a vortex of space.
Deep unlimited space opened up inside her.
It was a force, gentle, invincible.
She trusted it and understood that nothing she had ever done had been wrong.
There was a living deep presence looking back at her.
Her own eyes, seemed those of another.
Brilliant consciousness watching her.
Her mind stopped thinking and she felt herself drawn even deeper into expanding space.
A place where she knew who she was what he had been born to do.
'Let me remember,' she pleaded.

She had no idea how long  she spent in front of her bedroom mirror. It was dark and lights were lit inside the house. But no one had disturbed her.
And she remembered with total clarity.
She knew what she had to do.
She wanted to do it.
No one must know.
extract from "Candle" by Heiko Rudolph

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