The image in my head

I can’t draw or paint. My hands never learned how to translate the elaborate images in my mind into 2-D representations. Yet I have been haunted by an image in my head for months now and I’m suffering from having it in there but not being able to give birth to it.

Tonight I decided to give birth to it with the tools I have learned to use: words.

So let me draw you this picture…

A woman with long black hair that falls in big, soft curls over a pleasantly formed body is kneeling on the ground. She’s naked with her arms outstretched, holding on to trees either side of her. A thick green jungle full of colour and light surrounds her. She kneels on a spot of soft, dark-green moss, her head bent back gracefully and her neck thoroughly exposed and surrendered to the heavens. Her eyes are closed. From the centre of her chest springs a fountain. The waters pour strong and forcefully from her heart and in the waves I can see the full complexity of life: birth, death, happiness, pain, all of it, flooding through her with its paradoxical intensity. Her mouth is open and from it fly messengers of love - despite or because of it all - in the form of beautiful birds, all of which have a red heart-shape on their chest.

Since I embraced the cycle of life, Pachamama, in the Amazon, I feel very much grounded and supported by nature, like the woman in that image. And since I have worked so much on acceptance and letting go of resistance, I sometimes feel as if life's just flooding through me and suddenly, the lines between good and bad, me and other, begin to blur, and each experience becomes a curiosity, a new flavour of life, simply to be tasted and the beauty of that makes me want to sing praises of love.