And then you stopped believing

I was not used to people watching me work on my magic carpets. I had been waiting for someone to truly appreciate the threads I used, and I had seen your way of observing and believed you’d appreciate the quality of my work.
“It’s a beautiful rug” you said. You took long strides across it. “Thanks” I replied, watching your dirty shoes track a bit of mud on top of it. “The thread is Unconditional Love and Loyalty. It’s perfect for laying down when you’re watching the clouds from above”. You glanced at me and smiled “I’ve always loved those threads. It’s hard to come by a good rug with those threads” you said matter of fact, caressing the carpet. I shrugged, not too modestly. I trusted my rugs. Was excited about taking you out flying on it.

I started to sweep some of the dirt and grass you had tracked from outside on to the rug, while you ran your fingers through the fabric, pinching it between your fingers. As you combed through the different threads sticking out, I thought about the different layers each thread added. Glancing at a small patch of dirt that was still there from your shoes, I smiled as I realized this rug now had your mark on it.

Suddenly, you stood up abruptly with a thread between your fingers. “What is this??” your eyes wild, I wasn’t sure where your confusion was coming from. “It’s a thread of Loyalty” I offered. You shoved it in my face “if this is a thread of loyalty, then what’s it doing out of the rug?” I glanced between the thread, and your angry eyes, still trying to understand. “I’m not sure what you mean”. Furious, you threw the thread from your fingers, into the air. “This is not loyalty thread. If it were, it would never come off like that in my fingers.” At that moment I began to understand your anger, and my confusion began to turn to relief, as I realized it was all a misunderstanding. “oh! There are other threads in there, but the two main ones are Loyalty and Unconditional Love” I told you happily. You continued to glare at me, “what?!” you snapped. “Come, I’ll show you” and I grabbed your hand.

At that moment, through the open window, the Bird of Array came in with her gadgets and gizmos and weird bugs and creatures in tiny cages. She distracted us with neighborhood stories and rescue tales, and we drank her spirits and smoked her herbs and laughed together and I looked at my rug in the other side of the room, with the threads pulled out, barely any sign of dirt now except for a happy stain. It had so much more life, so much more story. We would fly on it! I thought to myself. I looked at you and you seemed relaxed. Like you believed me. It had all been a misunderstanding. I could barely contain my excitement about the ride we would take on my magic Loyalty carpet.

Finally the bird left and I ran to the rug to braid and thread and add layers of threads of Unconditional Love so that it would be strong and mighty for the ride. Perhaps if I combined the threads in a better way, they would not come off in your hand. I worked humming to myself, happily, as I felt your quiet presence nearby. I did not look up, I could feel you tired, I understood it was from the excitement of the day, an important misunderstanding about loyalty, followed by a lot of story-telling. I thought to myself to continue to work on the rug, so that you would lay more comfortably on it, and give you the space to rest in the mean time.

But then the door to leave swung open, and you were in the threshold of it.
“The colors of the thread are nice, but you’re lying about what they’re made of. It isn’t loyalty. Or Unconditional Love”. Your presence loomed below the “Exit” as your body threatened to leave.

I looked up at you, shocked at what had come out of your mouth, confused. “I assure you it is.”
“No. you’re lying”. Your words came out like venom and landed like ice on my back. You stepped out into the other side of the door, where your shoes were now filled with dirt again. This time, the dirt seemed darker, and much less friendly then the light dusty soil you had brought in earlier.
I could feel myself getting angry at you, but how to act on it when there are threads of unconditional love in your hands?

“I am sure you’re tired of the day,” I tried with compassion “there are different threads, as I tried to explain, and so perhaps it is not what you Expected. But if you lay on the rug, without pulling out the threads, you will see, it is loyalty and unconditional love. There is no deceit.”

“You’re lying” you said simply, and then came back in to wipe one foot on the rug. “It doesn’t look that comfortable anyway” you said, and, bewildered, I stared at your foot next to its fresh handiwork. A long line of dirt now streaked across the rug.

I had loved you and your small dirt before, knowing that sometimes it came with you, proof of existence. But now this dirt was different. It had been placed there maliciously, had been planted like a bacteria. “I don’t care what you do with your rug” you spit out at me.

I stared at the threads in my hand, somehow not as beautiful as they were a few minutes ago when I had been braiding more Love and Loyalty into this rug. “I am sorry you feel that way”.

“Yeah” was all you said. “I’m going to go work on this rug somewhere else.” I said quietly, not knowing what else to do to protect us both from the demon of deceit that had seemed to cloak your eyes. Perhaps if I gently pulled away and gave you time. And as I stood up to walk into another room, I heard the door slam shut behind me and lock.

I stared at the rug in my hands, which despite its glitter did not shine. My tears had dampened the soil, it had turned to dirty mud, and my magic rug looked like just a dirty rag. That this is what you had seen last, and that’s how you’d remember me. Not the girl that wanted to take you out on a magic carpet ride, but rather the girl holding a dirty, useless unwelcome mat.

The thing about a magic carpet is…it won’t work unless you believe.

There would be no wrapping ourselves around a magic carpet, rolling on a rug, flying through the sky of unconditional love, loyalty, intimacy, and compassion…instead, I’d be walking on the ground, and my rug would be no more. I walked home alone, cold. I felt instead muddied, like the dirt on my rug. I did not believe in that carpet either, anymore. I went to sleep without you. I dreamt that you had come back. I woke up the next day to realize that you had been a dream…your existence and to be with you…unconditionally. On a magic carpet ride. That was the dream.

But when awake, the truth is…you’re gone. And magic carpets don’t exist.

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Water and Wifi.

Yes this is exactly what I was talking about.

It’s funny how subtle it is in the world, like butterfly wings somewhere far from where we are now; and yet how powerfully full of Matter and Significance it is to me, that is just feels like the whole universe around me conspired for that moment, speaking to me, to the participants of that moment, daring us to listen.

The day I met Olivia, when we were returning, my mother and I were driving to her house as the sun was in golden hour and beautiful. I felt magical. Driving past my not-yet-complete house I saw some kids hiding in the building. I wanted to know who they were, so I got out of the car to meet them. A little one peeked out from underneath saying he was watching his herd of sheep; maybe he said it a little too fast so I told him, “it’s fine, this is just my house and I want to know who’s here.” I smiled at him hopefully reassuringly and peeked into the structure to see who else was around. It was about 3 kids, young teenage boys. I smiled at them, totally reassured and still carried from the magic of meeting Olivia, convinced that all of this was serendipity.

After a brief greeting and looking at them each in the eyes so that I saw who they were, I told them they were welcomed to be in and around the house, so long as they took care of it. They shyly smiled and consented and I walked away, content.

Half an hour later they came over, with the same shy smiles and hesitant behavior. They wanted to know if I could give them some water.

Before I continue my story, let me explain something about my intentions with my house. It has been the continuous result of the combined creative efforts and hard work of my mom, dad, and myself. I want it to be a labor of love, for it to constantly have that energy be put in it, we have amazing people working on that house for us, and have a beautiful design to work on. I’d like it to be a center for community. For people to come here and feel safe. That if I cannot give them something, they can find the way to get it themselves in the house whether it be food, water, shelter, peace, art, love, quiet, connection, or their own personal magic. But in order to be a part of the community, I have to know the community. Being of vastly different social worlds, and me having my own fiercely introverted tendencies, getting to know the community was something I had no idea of how to do.

So, let’s come back to the situation of these young teenage boys out in the campo watching their sheep asking me if I can give them water.

Oh my God yes, a thousand times yes. I run into my mom’s house, somehow so excited about this opportunity to provide these kids with something so basic as water. I know they have houses, and go to school, and that they have water too. But they’re here now asking me for water and extending an Olive Branch (oh Olivia) and so I say yes, oh my God yes.

We talk for a bit, I ask them their names and what they’re doing. Neither of us really sure what to say to the other and yet still politely observing the other, I imagine I looked weird to them with short faded cartoon-yellow hair, thick glasses and whatever couch-potato frock I was wearing. One of them mumbled something, and then they all laughed. “What?” I asked. They all laughed nervously but no one told me what they wanted. I teased them for not wanting to share their joke with me to which one of them replied “we wanted to know if you had internet?” I laughed. “You want the Wi-Fi password?” and laughed at myself, and how beautiful and funny the situation was. Water and the Wi-Fi password. That’s what the community wants. I can do that. I gave the 6 boys I had just collected on my mom’s yard and gave them the Wi-Fi password. We exchanged pleasantries, and then I said goodbye, and came upstairs into my mom’s house glowing with the day.

What a completely magical day it had been. This was how I communicated with the universe. I could hear it and it was glorious.

Today, the boys came back. Just for water this time. I came downstairs and asked them what they were up to. “Watching the sheep” was the answer. “What do you guys do over there?” I asked, motioning towards my house structure. “Jugar futbol” they said.

I smiled. “Well, I’m going to go over there in a bit to hang out at the house, you guys can stay or go”. They asked me if they should wait for me. “Do whatever you want” I said smiling. They smiled back and nodded in a way that seemed to say they were going to wait. It made me feel important.

I changed into clothes that were a bit more appropriate for outside and grabbed candles and incense to clear the energy in the house, something I try to do regularly. I went there followed by three of the boys and we were joined by three more at the house. As I walked into the house to look around, they all came and followed me around as well. I felt odd suddenly, with this unexpected shadow, so I tried to explain why I was lighting candles and incense in the house. After filling up the awkward silence with what must have sounded like ramblings of a crazy woman, I asked them where in the house they liked to hang out more. They pointed to what would be my bedroom. We went in there and they tossed a soccer ball around and while half the group seemed comfortable with me there and began to act more naturally (after me telling them that I wasn’t going to faint at his mention of a curse word) the other half of the group hid behind their hands or each other. The more confident

half of the group relished in the second half’s shyness and made fun of it. This made them break out of their shell for just a moment, and then suddenly they were all six of them, maybe for just a few minutes, existing in trueness. In beautiful trueness. Kids that play futbol, kids that want the Wi-Fi password. Kids that are just as curious about me as I am about them. I smiled and was grateful to See.

After about thirty minutes I came home to work.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now, because I’m very introverted and strict about my space and time. I like to give and be generous but always on my own terms. But I also want to learn about the people around me, provide for them some kind of richness the way they do for me. And also, magic happens when we let go. And by God I’ll let go. I’ll let go all I have to if it means being free to keep Seeing.IMG_20180105_174541578.jpg

The Day I Met Olivia

At the memorial of a friend yesterday I met Olivia. I felt like I had seen her, or met her, but I needed to speak to her, I needed to know her again, to hear her, regardless of whether I had met her already or not. I saw her and I felt I had to know her. I went up to her and said just that, “Hi I don’t know if we know each other but I feel like I need to know you.” Olivia in her perfect voice full of depth, story, tenderness, Olivia in her full confident presence immediately welcomed me with a “we don’t know each other, but that is so sweet”. I sat next to her and we had a conversation that I suppose, natural to the day’s occasion, began with death. How San Miguel de Allende brings magical people together, and it’s “a good city to die”. I had never thought of San Miguel like that, as my experience was on another specter of life. But now that I had, I saw San Miguel totally differently. Our conversation flowed from politics to identity to philosophy in through in such a natural stream of consciousness that it was one of those exquisite moments in life that make you breathe truly and deeply. We had conversations about race and the way we relate to ourselves through identity where she gave me new ways to see things I felt I needed new perspective in, more properly experienced wisdom. And Olivia was that. No hyperboles, an actor who loves the art, a whole human being of a person who I feel graced to have met and spoken to.

Once the sun went down everyone went home. We did not exchange numbers or contacts. We simply trusted San Miguel to bring us back together. I tried to thank her for the conversation, but words failed me.