A white swan swims gracefully in the dirty shallows of the city's river which is punctuated with cast-off tires. I imagine myself crossing on a blow down and climbing the slope through the sea of graves. Notre Dame, the French cemetery of Our Lady. I've got relatives in there. And even more across the street in the Irish one. Hope, it's named.
I sat on a flat rock under direct sun in as close as my inflexible body could get to a seated meditation position. I tried relaxing into it, breathing my way in, but a horsefly arrived almost immediately and began to relentlessly attack my sweating face. I finally killed it against the side of my nose and continued sitting for the rest of my ten minutes.
Later, I took off most of my clothes and laid flat upon the ground under the hot sun and asked Madre Tierra and Padre Cielo to heal me. Before long, I could imagine negative thoughts and detrimental patterns rising up and out of me like steam being burned away to nothing deep within the heart of the sun. I could imagine past experiences and their corresponding emotions which were locked painfully in my tissues being drawn down into the Earth turned under and into compost to decay and transmute into essential nutrients for new and healthy growth.
I trusted them. They held me securely. What now can I do for you?
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