Where did the time go this year, and how exactly did it pass? From where I stand spiritually between the crevice dividing feeling and sentiment, the dust indeed falls softly on this fine conclusion to what must have been a year. At least according to the division of days and hours, which in this society we must follow increment-upon-notion in order to collide into one another in perfectly unreliable rhythm.
A specific measured year has come to its sunset settlement. While the movement of time has led within me to spaces unknown and haunts surfacing magically from the fog of the unforgotten, words are scarce and I fear must be hunted down and bound to the tracks for safe-keeping.
We walked as the orange fire bled across a sky, complete with ribcage gash and all, feeling the wind raw against cool ears, communicating despite language. The view was enough, as the pleasure of nature snapped for us endless frames content to reside in the picture-postcard-pockets of our minds’ eyes and familial heart-motions. The trees swept audio inklings to the side like a waterfall in reverse, as waves of motion scooted across our path like playful squirrels formed by the substance of comprehension alone.
Looping about the layered valley as dark approached, we rode the evening with delight, content with the walk and the sparkling of lights. Tree-shadows, our somber living audience, absorbed all shine from the moon, and yet the inverted creature, smooth and crescent, beamed bright enough to leave its kindness glowing upon the ground.
Even after we had walked away to climb the final hill, that sweet space glowed with enchantment as only memories can, and the interaction of story-telling will be etched in my mind forevermore. So many things to learn from, but never fear, for lessons are painful, but awakening is the most beautiful state after the sort of deep sleep that is troubled by change.
I am the hawk, and will be observing keenly with discernment, taking each detail into question and seeking answers within myself rather than attempting to interpret other people.
They will do as they please, but blending of kind souls is ever more delicious as love grows and the heart knows…Music is the key and life is the rhythm: I will play the strings in harmony and find my melody again and again, defining space with each sigh.
December 31, 2011
Jennifer Montemayor
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