Mades and Me

After a spiritual guide experience today (a beautiful, breezy, sunny day), I was driving home and felt an immediate, slam-on-my brakes moment to enter the West Main cemetery. I parked on a dirt path near the “back” of the cemetery and walked the hills in my not-so-functional-for-hills high heels. I walked around thinking that there was an orb somewhere (likely not in this cemetery) that was my soul, the missing little circle I have been desperately trying to fill. So many missteps were made because of this, only further complicated by my emotional condition. So much was unnecessary in setting me back this far, but it did.

But as I wandered in the cemetery looking for nothing in particular, looking only at the old tombstones, wanting to bring something for the tiny graves that looked to be never given a second glance by anyone. One of these tiny graves said “Moses” … but I first thought it read: “Mades” (MA-Des). Then I knew I had finally found the name of my typewriter, my partner in emotion and so many word crimes of truth.

After coming home, I walked in the door and fell asleep on the pad on my bedroom floor. I had 2 dreams — one that I told someone everything I had to tell. The other about a little girl I dream a lot about (she’s about 3) calling me mommy half crying, half laughing. I always thought it was my pesky and getting peskier biological baby clock, but now I think it is that orb of my soul. We pass in these Jungian hallways, missing one another by being pulled around corners by arms and hands neither of us want anymore. I will call her Mades as well. Anhedonia is still in the wings smiling smugly, but now I am not alone. I will name my daughter Mades … it is beautiful. And now it is also profoundly meaningful … the first step toward our lullaby.

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Published in: Uncategorized on April 17, 2008 at 12:52 am  Leave a Comment  

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