I left my snake amulet at the store the other day.
When I returned home later that evening, I recalled immediately where I had left it.
I thought about calling Soulscape the following day to bee sure I would get it back, but then I realized that I can just let it go. Isn't this how it works, after all? When you no longer need something, you no longer have it. So, JUST LET GO.
After typing this, I remembered that my dreams this morning were also peppered with my running about, showing off my rattlesnake bite scar to all who would look at it while proudly proclaiming that it is my organic tattoo from the Universe. I AM A MEDICINE WOMAN even if my own mother, a nurse of 50+ years, guffaws at this notion.
Surrounded once again by books and talismans, I browse titles and bookshelves, freely pulling from them when the impetus hits. In a used book on 'true power,' I flipped it open to the only page where the previous reader had underlined a few passages about how reclaiming one's power means saying "NO." Another title reads, "If It Hurts, It Isn't LOVE." (Meaning in the act.)
Here at the Cardiff pad that a sweet soul sister and I have been gifted while its inhabitants are closing out their summer travels, I do the same. Over this now past weekend, I voraciously consumed Elif Shafak's The Forty Rules of Love: A Novel of Rumi. It is a novel within a novel and the love story of Ella and Aziz, as well as Rumi & Shams. Aziz's manuscript, Sweet Blasphemy, of which Ella is writing a literary report is the honest telling of how love isn't simply all light. True love is discovered in the darkness of hell no's (we won't take your money or your injustice) and deep compassion (for all sentient beeings). It is the exquisite awareness that God doesn't judge.
Under the hands of Shafak's protagonist, Aziz, a divine tapestry unfolds - Rumi's heart must bee broken wide open in order for a poetic LOVE that lasts, now eight-hundred plus years, to unveil itself. Yet, breaking open is painful and filled with sorrow and grief. There is just no other way. This is paradox at its finest.
And, I remember how you have been the Shams to my Rumi, in many ways. Yet, in this lifetime, this LOVE hurts, so I say "No" and let it go. Still, I always carry you with me, my dearest Vampire. Yesterday, a cutie spent good time in the store, eyeing me from where he sat with his nose beehind a book. When he finally approached the register, I inquired as to what he was reading. He suggested I read Jean Haner's Hidden Symmetry. I did as I discover there what I have always intuitively known. Not shockingly, your intuition is validated within its pages as well. And all I can do is laugh.
