yesterday i didn't cry. today i'm not so strong.
i left the house early to run some errands. not wanting to return home to the same place and same things, i i drove through for a coffee and headed to the park across the river from downtown. there are two, one directly behind town, the other across the river from it. not my preferable one, but the other one is still under improvement construction.
i parked my car, fought off a yellow jacket who had entered through the window. i got out but he stayed in, so then proceeded a ten minute battle of getting him out of my car without making him angry enough to sting me. success was mine after which i proceeded with coffee and book in hand to a small pavilion.
i've been rereading "illusions" by richard bach for the umpteenth time. a small book one is able to read in a single setting. but i have chosen this time to savor the words that seem to affect my spirit so. i knew i would finish the book there at the park today. there was never a more perfect time to do so with the sun shimmering like diamonds on the water and the sky so blue and clear.
nearing the end of the story i felt such sorrow i cried, not only because of a scene in the story but because i was nearing the end of the book. whenever you love something, the ending of it is hard to bear. i allowed the tears to come for a moment or two, then watched a young man get out of his car, fishing pole in hand and walk down to the dock to cast his line.
in the book, the reluctant messiah teaches his flying companion how to manifest by imagining. whether anyone believes it or not, we are capable when we believe. so i decided to do just that. i envisioned my love having dropped his suitcase in the other room, standing in the kitchen. he slid his arms around me, his eyes smiling while i stroked his whiskers. i touched my fingers to his lips, tracing their outline before i kissed them. no words were spoken until i looked up into his eyes and he said, "here i am. i'm yours." and we both smiled and we both cried. as the vision faded, i found i was crying because it felt so real.
afterwards, considering the words i'd recently read, that perhaps i should start smaller, despite knowing i have manifested big things in my life. so i envisioned a yellow flower and let the thought go. i gathered my book and my by now empty coffee cup and started walking up the path by the river, heading towards a bench near the water to sit in the sunshine and watch two ducks, obviously a couple, that i'd noticed earlier. as i sat there considering these two ducks, one a mallard, one a plain white duck, i thought about how wonderfully simple there lives were. they weren't worrying about anything, perfectly content to be in the water, grooming themselves. no concern as to what anyone thought or cared, no worry about food or shelter or tomorrow. oh to be a duck. and as i sat there i noticed the plant growth along the river bank right in front of me. tall, leafy, clusters of plants and atop each one were yellow blossoms.
finally it was time to return to the car and head home. i would have stayed but the coffee had made my leaving necessary. as i was looking down to avoid stepping in geese droppings before stepping onto the path, i noticed that the ground was covered in tiny yellow flowers.
life is like a movie script. we write the beginning and endings and everything in between in regard to and often in conjunction with others simply by our imagining. we just so often tend to forget we are playing a part in the illusion and that we have any real part in how it he movie goes or how it ends. wasn't it einstein who said, "imagination is everything"?
in wrapping this up, i'll add a "verse" from the messiah's handbook in "illusions":
"in order to live free and happily you must sacrifice boredom. it is not always an easy sacrifice."
