kinda neat

when i was a kid, i grew up with women sitting around
reading tea leaves.

yeah, i really did.

how cool is that?

one of my mom's friends 'read them for real' and that
kinda got everyone doin' it.

it was a common thing to sit down and spend some time
looking at the pictures the leaves made in the cup.

i'd bring friends over and we'd do it -
great fun among teenagers....

and then it was something that we'd do for fun for company
when i moved out and had people over for dinner.

i never 'read' them for people.
i'd just provide the tea, the cups and the explanation
of what to do. then we'd sit around and laugh and make up
stories and just entertain ourselves.

once in awhile i'd gather my girlfriends and we'd have a tea
party complete with reading our leaves.

thing is.....as the years went on, i'd do them at times for myself  'for real.'
not that i ever thought i could read them.
or ever even really believed in reading them.
but what i believed in was sitting yourself quietly when you have
something going on, focusing on something abstract, and letting
your mind wander. and listening to the wanderings.

i believe things can bubble up thru that process.
so i'd do that here and there.
and it always seemed to do me some good.

well, it almost felt like tea leaf reading by the time i was done with
a new wandering of the mind approach...

i sat down with paper and pen and looked out my living room window.
it was snowing and the snow was incredibly glittery.

and from there i just popped down a thought.

'gold dust floated down from heaven.
or was it silver dust?
maybe angel dust?
whatever dust it was,
it washed the earthly dust
right off of me
and woke me to living again.'

i just sat with that and felt it.

and then i looked at the table right under the window.
i have a sculpture of an open hand.
in the hand i have a rock with the word 'love' resting there.

i jotted down what that brought up in me.

love rested in the palm of her hand.
it was only when it started
slipping thru her fingers
that she understood
what it was she had held.

okay, i was getting into this.
stuff just came out like it wanted/needed to.

i looked at an art piece that my son had made me when he was
young. it was on my window sill -

what had been so bright years ago,
sat faded on her window sill.
the reds - the color of love -
deepened and grew richer.
the clear whites -
the color of innocence -
yellowed and darkened.
and somehow,
she understood that's how it was supposed to be.

and finally i looked at some valentine hearts i had next
to the piece i just wrote about -

hearts leaning against hearts.
hearts turned away from other hearts.
old and tattered, one with a rip,
another with a tangled string around its top -
us in so many ways.
decorating the world as best we can.

by the time i was done, i felt like i had just gone
thru therapy. just touching some emotions that wanted to be touched.
they didn't need 'fixing' or anything other than 'acknowledging.'
that's all the emotions needed.
to be touched.

and there they were, slipping right out of my pen.

i've never done that before.
just looked at things and randomly wrote.

but i think i'll definitely be doing this again.