As we travel through this place of continuous space and time there are moments to remind us how truly connected we really are. Dividing lines do not exist other than what we formulate in our minds and release through our energies. If we stop, pause and reflect upon our daily interactions with other beings and magical surroundings we would be astounded as to the direct link our existence has. We would become immersed in the knowing that nothing is trivial.
There are pieces of our quilt that come flooding back without warning, and they often arrive and leave in waves tantalizing our senses like the taste of salty air. These pieces of fabric are a part of our being and demand to be heard, but so often cause moments of unwarranted entry. It is during these moments that we should allow ourselves the power of honoring the emotion without giving it complete control. They are a part of us. They have shaped us in various ways in the manner a sculptor works on a piece of clay. There will bumps and edges but places of smoothness like a rock that has been kissed over time by a river’s water.
Our fences have many pieces of fabric. Some of them are tattered and torn while others are tied so tightly they are remembered with white light and love. When I look down the wooden planks and rusted bits of metal that have erected my fence over the years I see so many flags of fabric waving in the wind. Some of them are brightly colored like an intense meteor sailing through a midnight sky illuminating the night. Others are worn and dripping in the emotions that marked them so long ago. They hang in the way a rain soaked tree branch reaches towards the ground. The feelings are there. The remembering is real. It does not mean that I wish to wrap myself in that particular piece of fabric, but I will untie them now and again. Some of them I will allow to freely float away from me and others I will just loosen as to never completely lose sight of that moment.
My quilt is a powerful quilt. It carries a great deal. It is not designed for protection. It is not designed to harm. It is simply my being that has grown and flourished on this journey I am on. It will continue to grow. It will continue to thrive. I will constantly be reminded that it has given me voice. It has given me reason. It has given me courage to keep going. My quilt may have holes. They may look unappealing to others, but their stiches remind me that despite the scars there are pieces of color flying like a flag in the wind.