Past. Future. Perfect.

I wrote this following entry in my journal on July 5, 2011:

The moon is a milky crescent cradle hanging over the sky tonight.

I was driving on my way back to our temporary home a few hours ago, but found myself hypnotized by a perfect moon. I was enchanted by her glow in the sky, and how she seemed to find her way in front of the road I was traveling no matter how many times the road would bend.

I was thinking about our human experience here.  I was thinking about our experiences together and all the journeys that have led us to finding each other. I was thinking about connection.

And then, quite suddenly, I found myself steering the car up the mountain driveway of my home that burned down.

The roads were curved like the lines on my palm.

The moon carved the way on the path back home.

I put the high beams on and stood in the field of grass where the Enchanted Cottage once stood. My feet followed the stone path that used to connect to the front porch with the rocking chairs on it that Burke and I painted by hand for our anniversary. The stones have been moved by the old front staircase, and I couldn’t find where my door would have been… I just stood there in the dark and stared.

I thought about how quiet it was. I thought about how a year ago, I might be all curled up sleeping in bed in my house, cozy and warm. I wish I could go to her, and whisper in her ear and tell her what would happen, warn her, so she could gather her precious things, her history- but then decide that it is best to let her sleep and enjoy the bliss of not knowing.

Then I wonder about the future. I wonder what our new home will end up looking like, I wonder how long it will take to build, I wonder what will happen. I write these words and then I think….one day, years from now I will look back at this journal entry and the Future Me will know these answers. And then I wish she would whisper in my ear now…But she isn’t going to. And it’s the present and the future is unwritten.

It’s July 5, 2011 and I’m alone with the moon. I’m standing under the stars, looking up at the trees that I have looked up at for six years of my life. I’m standing on an empty lot covered with burned pieces of my old belongings, covered with dirt, covered with grass, covered with sky.

I feel the mosquitoes on my body. I don’t move to kill them. I imagine the raised bumps of their bites on my skin will spell out the answer to all of this in braille……

Dear Me of July 5, 2011….

I read this and remember you when you wrote this.  So uncertain, so scared, so down.  In my mind, the Me from today goes back in time to hug you.  Hang in there, Girl.  You are gonna be in a bit of a funk until October 2011.

I know.  It sucks.

But on October 29, 2011, you will perform wearing a crown of fire and holding fire in your palms, and you will feel in control…. dancing with that powerful element as an equal partner.  Turning chaos into beauty.  Into ritual.

After the show, you will go back to your hotel room, turn on music loud and dance and dance and dance for hours.  You will dance all the remaining sadness out of you.  The next day, you will tell your friend, Flambeaux, that it was like an exorcism.  The sadness ghosts of the house fire just dissipate into thin air.

You will feel like you can breathe again for the first time in months.

And that night, exhausted and sweaty from dancing out the demons, you will feel a change in yourself.  You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on October 29, 2011, and you see in your eyes a girl returned from the underworld.  You capture it on film.  You never expect to share it with anyone.

In the future, you don’t hide anything.  You lay your bones out for the world to see.

It’s better that way.

As I write this to you now, on August 11, 2012,  I hope that on some level you will receive it in the past.  I wish I could whisper to you back in July 2011 like you wanted me to and let you know that everything is going to be alright.

Because it will be.

Exactly, one year and one month in the future from where you were when you wrote the above letter… will sleep and dream in the belly of the Phoenix for the first time.  You will curl up in a ball in the new home, snuggled between Niney and Burke in a bed of sawdust.  You will see the moon glow come through the half-moon window and kiss your legs.  You will slide the rest of your body into the moon bath baptism of the new house.  You will glow.

And all around the night creatures will sing, chirping lullabies of the forest….

of the mountain…..

of the land….

of your home.

And the walls will hold the names of tribe.

You asked me what the house looks like in the future.  It is a strange beauty of wild imagination….. The Phoenix Kingdom.

It stands tall in the gorgeous future waiting for you to arrive….


Me from August 11, 2012


3 thoughts on “Past. Future. Perfect.

  1. So incredible. I was wondering about this the other day and I’m so pleased that my query was heard by the universe. You’re an inspiration to me and I can’t wait to see you in Salt Lake City with EA in October (you will be there… Right?) Xoxox, your devoted kissing army soldier, Emilie

  2. That touched me deeply…I understand the need and desire to comfort your past self. I wish I could go back and tell myself last year…that now things are slowly getting better…there may be an end in sight. You have such a wonderful way with words! Your new home is a magickal, artistic masterpiece, and I wish you all the happiness in the world within it’s glorious walls. <3

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