Here, take my hand, it is warm and friendly and holds yours with a kindness you had forgotten. Here, take my hand, I have something I want to show you….
In the elbow of your afternoon, when your day has slowed enough for you to sit down and take a breath, you remember. An invitation. Not spoken. Or written. But something like a memory, a secret summon, just for you. You didn’t question, you just nodded. And closed your smiling eyes…
Your feet walk barefoot on a cobbled street. They don’t hurt. They are warm and happy to be on their way. Your head is toasty too, heated by the sun, your face awake, your eyes alive, open to this new and unfamiliar, familiar world, inviting it all in…
Beside the banana trees, nestled like a portal to another world, you see the rough-hewn wooden door. You remember it from a far away place and turn to knock, but not before you run your fingers along its carefully carved ridges, along its smooth-bumpy skin. And as you do, the latch opens with a gentle clack and the door creaks open…
You step up and onto the flagstone path. Freshly watered, the heat beneath you is humid, enveloping, like a green house for your toes. You smile at your senses. They haven’t been this alive in a very long time. Your eyes search for someone, anyone who can tell you that you are in the right place. But then you realize you don’t need someone to tell you that. You know you are. Maybe you just wanted a face to echo your joy, to welcome you home to your sensory garden…
You meander along a narrow passageway, beside a vine-covered wall, the bricks barely peeking out, but more than any worry you have. Those are all deeply tucked away. Back in your other world, the world that mattered more, or so you used to think. Your nose rises up, the scents trickle down—first the sea, then the rest. Your shoulders inflate, your smile broadens, your energy lightens even more, oh how is this even possible, you say to your grateful heart. The roses, the gardenias, the herbs and tropical spices, you inhale the life, the pulsing energy of your sensory garden, the evening of your dreams…
Your eyes dance but with a calm and contented kind of sway, seeing things for the first time but you know not the last---the dark and glossy leaves dripping with water, humming with heavy, humid air, the speckled insects and cooing birds, the little gecko peeking from beneath his umbrella leaf, each one as much a part of this world than the next, all an integral part of the whole. You hear the fountain, follow the path deeper, deeper into this lush and enveloping world…
And then, you realize you need to sit. Just for a second. So you do. Beneath the palapa fronds and beside the cloth-laden table as if the chair was there waiting for you. And when you do, just then, you hear a faint tingling of bells. Bells? You cock your head with curiosity. A new scent. The scent of a woman. Someone you know but had almost forgotten. She comes bearing gifts, foods you didn’t know you ached for, treats she knew your senses craved…
Welcome, my friend, welcome to our garden. It was just mine, but now it’s yours, too. I’m so glad you heard my call. I’m so happy you decided to come. I’ve been wanting you to visit for some time. Here, take my hand once more, and this time, tell me your heart, the heart I have so longed to hear...
18 comments:
Speechless Brynne.... simply speechless... Your words weave beauty and detail, senses that tingle. Thank you for sharing your beautiful garden with us all.
I am sOO happy you liked it, John. What a happy way to start my day...making your senses tingle:)
I agree with John - this made me speechless with awe at the way you weave your spell. Oh how i long for the day that I do share it with you...
Thank you, dear Jo. You know, though, my dear friend..my words are so much more than I am. They come thru me and help me be more of who I am. Just as you do, Jo. Just as you do, my dear friend. Thank you.
Is that really your fountain? How I love fountains and your words are as soothing as the water flowing over their edges.
I just noticed your link to your book on amazon, and ordered it. What a treat!
It is, Tracey, it is:) I dreamed it up myself which was pure joy!:) And to think that you bought my short story makes me soOo happy! Thank you, sweet friend:) Happy day to you!
I loved taking a seat in your tranquil garden. Thanks for the invite. I took your hand and walked along with you!
I loved having you, Mimi. I've been wanting you to come visit for a very long time. Did you feel my hug when you left?:)
And what a beautiful garden it is, Brynne! I imagine us sitting next to the fountain, coffee cups in hand, talking about everything and anything. What a beautiful afternoon that would be, friend! Someday. I hope, someday. :)
I echo your words, dear Bella...us sitting by the fountain with something warm and buttery, too! And then, maybe, if you feel safe enough, you will tell me all about your heart, what it does when everyone else is asleep...you sweet sweet soul, you.
Thank you for the passage, I will enter it often. I'm not surprised that you were able to see my desire (joy) in touching things, to sense their substance and need. The door that needs to open, the sounds that need to be heard and the aromas that that need to fill the soul with memories, old and new. Touch makes things a part of ourselves, if only for a moment, and we don't need fingers to touch those around us.
I love everything I've read of yours, but this was the first piece where I knew with each sentence, what you were going to say next. I have not been "here" before, but I have been here, and remember it. Looking back, I'm surprised it's been so long since my return.
Gorgeous. Just love the blue tiles on the fountain. Makes me happy just wandering through that garden here.
my dear, roughwater John...I have had to sit with your words, to let them seep like a fine tea. And now that I have, the flavors are even more delectable than first I tried. My senses sense things I know senses dont usually sense...things that pose as secrets but we are all privy to if we but open our hearts and eyes. You connect to the same underground tributary as I...isnt it beautiful? Come swim with me...if we splash and joy enough do you think the others will hear and join us too?? I will dream...dream for the rest of us until they draw these cards, too:) Thank you, my friend.
oh how I love having you wander, dear Deniz...it makes me so very happy too. And one day before July when I go back to the States...wont you send me your address...then I will send you a blue tile of your own so you know it is your garden, too, my friend...your garden, too.:)
Brynne, perchance things seem secret to so many, because so many refuse to see. Your garden was a secret, though its door was always open. Once you let others know it was OK to see, the beauty was visible and open to all. It was always OK to see, some, myself included, simply need to be shown. As you say, we see with more than eyes.
Underground yes, but not under earth it seems. It is beautiful, more so with each new soul who finds it, flowing obvious below our expectations and above our desires. Raucous joy always opens eyes and hearts it seems. Race you to the deep end?
Oh, your beautiful secret garden! Thank you for inviting me in dear Brynne. The highlight of my day! Whenever I’m feeling uninspired, I will return to catch the scents, the birdsongs, and the lush beauty!
dear roughwater John...your responses are so poetic, infused with a magic that gives my heart twirls and makes my eyes want to sparkle even happier! You inspire me to write more, to share what I sense more, to live soul every moment in between. Ooh...and I hid a present for you underwater. Its invisible so you'll have to find it with the sense that sings...yes...a sense you forgot about until it starts to see....:)
My dear, dear Debra...and when you are feeling uninspired you can rest your wings here..here in our garden, safe with me:)
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