Disturbance Collection
Author’s Note: The collection begins with a conversation with love. Part one of this collection is called Unburden. A combination of poetry and dialogue that demonstrates the process Moses has taken to heal and expand mentally, emotionally, and physically.
A Conversation with Love
I have been watching myself lately. Standing in the mirror blinking, I open my mouth, I let out a sigh. You might say I am crazy. I would say, I may be, where in the all was I. Who I am, and who I allowed myself to be was at odds. She began to speak to me.
In a gentle inflection she spoke, “Child why you discount yourself”. I scoffed, “What do you mean”. “You are love and life, but when you look at me, you are in turmoil”. “How can you tell”, I muttered. Her voice echoed from my heart, “For I am not apart from you, neither you from me”
“Can you see that to every effect, you are the cause, pulling the strings of your experience– What you will, shall be, what is, was already.” She went on to say, “Darling, every seed you plant, big or small, comes to bring its reward.”
Disturbance Collection: Unburden
Reflections and Poetry:
Who in me is at odds? Who is suffering? As I asked these questions, He came forward. With some reluctance, mostly because he was so used to being suppressed and ignored. But this time, he felt my willingness. We were ready; he could now talk to me. He started off by asking me the difference between the maze and the labyrinth. I hesitated to answer. He asked me to come closer. As we sat in the garden he explained, the maze has many paths. It has multiple dead ends, entry, and exit points. The labyrinth has one path, entry, and exit. Following the path, you will be led to the center. He said, “Find your center, by following your heart”.
He told me about the disdain he had for himself. The words of those around him spoke so loudly, crashing upon him, chipping away at his worth. His sense of being was confused by the noise.
As we walked the streets of Spain, I was holding his hand, I looked down at him, and he smiled at me. He said, “Thanks for showing me what I could be in this world.” Puddles of appreciation formed in my eyes. I knew his pain, and I knew his joy.
We talked for days; as I sat with him I began to see anticipation return in eyes. He told me about his family, those of blood, and those of higher ties. I asked him if he sought help, he explained his decision to remain in suffering. From his perspective, he thought those in his family with this knowledge would only add to his trauma and create more drama. So he held on. In his life all wasn’t gloom and doom. He traveled often with his family. That opened him up to possibility and wonder. His Gram K was a special lady. She picked him up from school many afternoons. They would read and have a snack. At the time he loved the popcorn chicken from Sonic, usually paired with an Oreo milkshake. He was a prankster. He would lock all the cars doors except the driver’s side. When Gram K would open it, the alarm would sound. He’d burst of laughing. She was a bit startled, but soon she would catch on to playful ways. She would exclaim “Mose, are you trying to give me a heart attack.” In these times, it was laughing and being playful that kept him going. Eventually he came to terms, and had learned to grasp.
I asked him what about church sparked a change in him. He replied “the realization that somehow I was the temple of God.” I had more questions, so we sat down for gelato. We had the refreshing melon flavor. I asked, “What brought you to the conclusion.” His reply was quite funny, “I was sick in my sophomore year of University, I had dropped majority of the classes that previous fall, and all I needed was a C on the final to pass with a B- in Chemistry.” He had received the C, after not having time to fully study the subject. It was “funny” because why did he not just ask to be healed rather pleading with God for the C.
He told me about the time he had a seizure. I am happy he was so playful, because we both could laugh at it. He was in church working the camera for Sunday service. He felt the body growing anxious, he had one of the moments you only see in movies where right before you fall you see ambulance lights. He awakened with people surrounding him. They had no clue he had a seizure, he was at church, so of course he caught the Holy Ghost. We both cackled.
The time of releasing was upon him. My friend was beginning to let it out. As a peer mediator, he helped facilitate a more peaceful and compassionate environment in his High School. In this class he had finally had a chance to unburden himself, and he took it. We both celebrated this choice. His close friend in the class was always a confidant, but this she had not known. During an exercise called “What’s in your bag”, he unpacked the trauma that kept his freedom tied in patterns of reactivity. The levies of repression broke, and fertilized potentiality.
In the desert, I saw him dancing. He pranced around in the sand. I joined him. Waves of gratitude washed through me. Swaying back in forth, tears pooled, and poured from my eyes. The open bright sun echoed of eternal sunshine. Radiance enshrined his temple. And I looked on in wonder. All the paths we took to get to this point.
While he was on his way to dancing in the sun, he still had to detach from relationships he made in the pattern of reactivity. We talked more, sitting under the Andújar night sky. He warned me to be sure of my intentions. He mentioned that the friends he chose were all in striving to fill something only he could do himself. And under that premise he made choices from outward appearances and did not follow his heart. In which today he places emphasis on truth and the qualities of love.
His sense of humor is bewildering. He always laughs at the wrong time. In a way I find it charming. He went on to express to me that river and streams pour into the ocean. I looked at him, “Ha, it is like what Frost said.” He giggled, “It May be, depends on one’s perspective.” I gathered that there are many paths of personal freedom. But one must first know that he is bond to advance toward liberation.
He reminded me of my power. How when I thought in defeat life was sour. Now I make my way to Constance Boulevard. I approach a bridge. He is there waiting for me. He asks me to tell me about myself. I was delighted, for now I could see more of what was within us.
We discussed the beauty of choice. The possibility to toil to the point your blood boils. As well as the option to sit in peace allowing inner release. In the moment we did not see the patterns working. Ones we had sown into the very fabric of our experience.
Growth can be disturbing. It often moves us out of what is comfortable. The direction is always to the state of being our highest and best selves. We arrive to a place where we are capable to live from our heart. We accept our feelings, our power, and our unity to all things. We begin the process of healing our wounds so we can live freely. Now we are truly able to let go the patterns that do not serve us. We reclaim our will, and live from a place of authentic expression.
“What is free will, if the mind is not free?” He Whispers.
“Ready, Set, Express– I release you to live freely and passionately” His voice echoed from my heart.
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