Like most spring into summers, those days held dreams sweet and living like celebration at harvest time. The words of my answer came forth with ease, tumbling from my lips as i squinted out from my perch toward the sun-dusted man who would hold open worlds at the birthing of my daughter months later.
"My dream is of a place were people can come to be born and die," i told this man whose spirit held hands with both wisdom and innocence. "A place where the sacredness of land is honored with gardens and food, the sacredness of spirit honored with ceremony, and all beings are held in an eternal radiance of power and play that we so embody in our essence.
Instantly, there came forth in my friend a master of such ceremony. And procuring a rather rounded stone that had danced for some time in the sea, he offered a circle in which we both stood to hold and honor the energy of our dreams.
Holding the warm stone in my hand, i set out to explore further the edges of this vision which had of late come to me. "A place where the energies of cultures from all around the world gather, as peoples from what we know as nations come to celebrate and honor the moving of spirit through such a sacred gate". "Of course there will be dancing and music, preparing feast and drink, sharing of wisdom and experience. I see this as a place of honoring the choice to be alive on such a planet, at such a time".
Paulo Cohelo writes of the "beginners luck" that accompanies one on the path to their personal destiny. As my gaze rose from the stone rolling silently through my hands that morning, the air filled with sea and the gentle and strong face before me spread wide with awe and wonder, was i graced with such luck.
How long we stood, eyes meeting and sweet awe bouncing to and fro between us, i know not. And as we were again joined by the other two of our group, as our circle had once instantly risen, it now fell once again into the breathing of the earth as we transformed into four. Once again on earth time, our tour of the bay filled hours of diving and playing beneath the place where water and air meet. It was to be the beginning to many days of remembering of an old way.
Just Friday past, as my eclectic and desirable restaurant bustled with the exchange of food and money, i found myself again face to face with a man of gentle wisdom. How curious we each were to meet here in the midst of our own private lives, and without forewarning. I somehow managed to spend generally all my time not running food and drinks, speaking with him and on various and generic subjects such as Balinese Alchemist Princesses and BA's in English and Writing.
As his bill lay waiting on the table, i was again asked, "Nicole, what is the vision, the grand plan, i mean there must be a place, obviously..." Though my answer was shaded in tones of a dream almost lost on the ever winding path we each know to be life, this soul whose name i learned not, remained suspicious of the depth he had felt and yet not heard in my answer. And what luck can the suspicion of a "strange" man in a restaurant for tell, perhaps i might learn soon of.
Quite slow and mellow have been the preparations of our coming return to the Big Island. And yet, amidst the many other preparations and ongoings, a magnanimous stirring becomes. For only so long does the sweet hot fire of Pele lie beneath the earth of such paradise before eruption surely ignites all in its presence? What majic and growing await us three as we embark in reunion to the isle of birthing, it will be my pleasure to share*
Aho
nicolitaminominapolis
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