Meditation on the Island

Wandering the island, I lost all sense of time. Looking at my wrist I noticed my watch was no longer there. As I walked the magical paths my mind went back to an ancestor and an image of an ancient woman I had long buried, but perhaps long buried is not the word. If there was one thing I had learned so far, it was that nothing was ever buried for good, rather it was always lingering at the edge of reality, waiting to be rediscovered.

There was a landscape I crossed that was full of particularly whimsical flowers, reminding me of small things. Wisdom Tales, meaning of time and place, things from childhood. Stories, whole universes, things handed down to me. My great grandfather appeared to me amongst these flowers and then others came too, similarly possessing a love of nature, and inclusive life. Reminding me.

Until nightfall I wandered and meditated on these memories, and then curled up in a bed of white forget-me-nots until morning crept over the bountiful landscape. On waking I saw the ferrywomen, who had come back, wearing bright gowns, to take me across to an isle within the island, where I would find the Great White Owl....

copyright word and image Monika Roleff 2005.