I have these lines from songs in my head. They arrive allofasudden and I catch them, pin them down, look at them and begin to sing. I could be pulling weeds (wild flowers in the wrong place) or sieving tuna in brine (yeuch) for Smallpants the dog, or even walking upstairs with a load of folded undies and in comes the melody, the lyric, the lift. I keep going on my road to somewhere ordinary, but suddenly with more colour, sound, chiascuro (love that word). I don’t feel weighted down at all, in fact I feel lighter. I suddenly see my feet that can dance, feel my hips that can sway, my arms that can hold and enfold, can make a statement without a single word crossing my lips. I arrive on the landing like a feather, full float-and-spin, light as gossamer, open to any touch down.
This is how I live now, and, believe me, it is full blown life. In reminding myself that although I am humanly and humanely attached to the soil and rock of this goodly earth, I have a spirit in me, and spirits, by definition, are unattached to ground control. To have both equally respected and equally free to speak requires good management. Not all of us are good managers. I thought I was a frightful manager to be honest, because I thought, once, as so many do. You are ‘either’ this ‘or’ you are that. Black/white. Good/bad. Successful or a failure. Right or wrong. Now, (and for heavens sake it has taken forever to get here) I know that all those shades of grey are where my power lies. Now I can hold two opposing ideas in my mind and accept both – Creation and Evolution, for example. I argue with neither and, besides, not one living soul, however brilliant can prove either one.
So, life bites me and yet I feel more alive because of it. How this can be is also not a question I ask myself, myself being of limited thinking on such matters. Holding on to a line of thinking, and one that may well be not my own original thought, I will always be stuck at the gate. I don’t want that. And I have found music to be a lifeline. Although I am here, functioningly here, doing what I will do until it’s done, I can slip sideways into otherness. I like otherness. Otherness keeps me grounded and lifts me high at the same time. Two opposing ideas, but they are not ideas, because they have always been themselves. For anyone to go beyond ‘surviving’ (and when I hear that word from the lips of one who has a roof, regular food and a car, I do have to work hard to avoid smacking them) they need to embrace spirit and body. The two, by the way, are not divisable, nor separate entities as some might have us believe. Both are united within each one of us, both accessible as thrusters and both at our command.
I wake early and slip as quietly as I can over the creaking floorboards, circa 1870, to make tea. I bring it back upstairs and get back into bed, curtains open on the tidal dance of the sealoch, the wave of the trees, the salt froth where sea meets river and the cry of gulls, harassing the young sea eagle as it tries to land on Tommy’s pines, and I write, I write I write….all my night thoughts, my howthehecs, my whatcanIdo’s and then, sated, I pick up my bible and feel my way to a passage, always (no exceptions) just the right wisdom for me on that morning, that time of life. Then, I lift myself, body and spirit aligned into the day. If I am lucky, and up last, I smell coffee, and if I am first, I make the smell myself. I feed the birds, calling out Good Morning Lovies and there they are, a spit away, chirruping a welcome, and in my ears there is song, there is always song……
Heaven……I’m in heaven……and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak……..
If this life is all we have, it is so so much more than enough. It is a gift.