In my Grandmother’s Clothes

Softly my body wakes before sunrise. Hot water with lemon cleanses my palate from a night of restless slumber.

I’m trapped in my body, in my life of good intentions.

I asked to play this role; the good-granddaughter. Dutifully I preform the rituals.

And so, gratefully I accept the position, knowing that it is my choice to be here. It is my choice to love unconditionally within the bounds of my ability.

I have been transported back to old England. The tea cozy and antique everything are a testament to years gone by, and lack of willingness to change.

Everything has it’s place, nothing out of line; evidence of great control.
Humans gone mad in attempt to create order, to avoid feeling reality, to avoid feeling anything.

Compassion strikes my heart while nobody is looking. I feel great sadness for the emptiness that I perceive in the homes of those who have filled their lives with possessions yet emptied their heart of connection.

Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with material — however, it is essential that it comes as an adjunct to the more important things in life: human love and kindness.

Kindness above all, reigns supreme.

Maybe, however this life is not so empty for them after all. If all material has no inherent essence; it’s essence becomes only that which is relative to us.

These crystal lamps have no worth to me, but for my Grandmother they mean the world. Her happiness is the transient kind. The kind of happiness that must be replenished regularly with glitter and gold.

This happiness seeks status.

I want to say that my happiness comes from a greater source, neither is that true. For the love and joy that I experience in my life comes from the exact same source. The only difference is that is was designed for me, by me; the God in me. Neither one is right nor wrong.

There is no such thing as right and wrong.

The creator has lovingly crafted for us the lives we were designed to live. Our own relative happiness is accessible to us any time, lest we open our eyes to see it or our hearts to feel it.

While my aching heart feels disgust towards the life choices of my family members, I harbour no resentment towards them. Resentment held me captive for too long, forgiveness sets me free.

Our souls have come together in divine contract to teach each other how to evolve and realize love. Today I choose to honour and respect their path as deeply as I honour and respect my own. Today I choose love.

Still however, trapped in a body, a life of good intentions — I see that old England is taking care of me as she has done for lifetimes.

On this fresh morning
Old England hold me warmly, wrapped in fresh linens.
She reminds me that this paradigm is an intentional teaching.

Old England reminds me that this is also love, I am also love.
Gently she relieves my fears and reminds me that I am safe.

Most potently, however
Old England drives me to create and innovate lest I be stuffed and medicated to death.

Old England wants me to change the world.

It was nearly a moment that I said to myself, this home is not a space in which I can create. The opposite is true.

It is precisely in the moments of misalignment that the contrast becomes evident, becomes beautiful. The teachings are available to us now.

It is time to express them.