Ghosts walk among us undetected. With every step we breathe in a vast web of Dream and Memory: people, places, defining moments of our lives. Dreams of our ancestors and of time before Time. We move through the echo of secret knowledge: Hope. Desire. Fulfillment. Grief. And we do not know.
Yet sometimes as we walk, one reaches out to gently touch us on the shoulder. We feel the whisper of its breath in our ear. And if we choose to listen, we find ourselves pulled, invited back through time and space into another realm of being. And we see that the distance is all illusion and that these ghosts are with us, Now and Always. We are carried on their whispered echo as their Song resonates within our every thought.
This morning I follow the invitation and am carried through to the memory of a voice, an energy. The passion of a favourite teacher for Word, Idea, Thought and Creative Expression. I see her in my mind and know that the labels I have created for her are of myself and not of her. She moves on, independently, fully alive and autonomous, not needing my construction. And yet we are connected. A thread of her has been caught within me and in this moment, I draw it close, smiling in recognition of all she taught me. Through her I have learned of irony and metaphor. Through her I have learned the deeper power of words to explore the incalculable space of our imaginations. And so this morning I breathe in the scent of that time and that connection, embracing the knowledge of who I am because of her. She moves on, apart, separate, unaware of my embrace. But it is there, nonetheless. This morning I give thanks for Jacqui Howard.
Picture courtesy pixabay.com
Yet sometimes as we walk, one reaches out to gently touch us on the shoulder. We feel the whisper of its breath in our ear. And if we choose to listen, we find ourselves pulled, invited back through time and space into another realm of being. And we see that the distance is all illusion and that these ghosts are with us, Now and Always. We are carried on their whispered echo as their Song resonates within our every thought.
This morning I follow the invitation and am carried through to the memory of a voice, an energy. The passion of a favourite teacher for Word, Idea, Thought and Creative Expression. I see her in my mind and know that the labels I have created for her are of myself and not of her. She moves on, independently, fully alive and autonomous, not needing my construction. And yet we are connected. A thread of her has been caught within me and in this moment, I draw it close, smiling in recognition of all she taught me. Through her I have learned of irony and metaphor. Through her I have learned the deeper power of words to explore the incalculable space of our imaginations. And so this morning I breathe in the scent of that time and that connection, embracing the knowledge of who I am because of her. She moves on, apart, separate, unaware of my embrace. But it is there, nonetheless. This morning I give thanks for Jacqui Howard.
Picture courtesy pixabay.com