The Oracle Speaks

Why on earth has Athena Grace LMNOP been finding marbles on the ground, picking them up and carrying them around in her backpack since she arrived on Kauai???

 

To find out the answer to this and other of Life’s perplexing questions, read on…

 

But first, RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU LOVE ROMANCE!!!  Mine shot up, that’s for sure.  God, I can’t get enough of the stuff… not that I’ve ever tried.  Not that I even have remote plans of such nonsense.  I’m so excited that night is falling from outer space upon me again.  You know what THAT means?  Darkness!  You know what THAT means?  Candle light!  And music that you can SEE and feel and rub up against.  Ahhhh… life is good!  If only I had someone to skin brush me right now.  But I did eat organic bacon for dinner… so all is not lost.

 

Now back to our story.  I don’t even know which one to tell, honestly… It’s been one of those days.  I’ve been getting some pretty strong impulses to let go.  Let go of my need for *rigid* structure, routines, “certainty”.  My sublet is up at the end of the month… and I’m trying to tune in to what to do next.  I am not gonna “muscle” through it from a place of fear and disconnect.  Nope.  God is gonna lead me to the precise place that I need to be in order to best Serve.  But this is a weird concept… even for this crunchy, new-age bitch.  Yes.  I called myself a bitch.  And it felt good.  Really good.  Shrug.  What can I say?

 

Surrender.  Trust.  There comes a time in a crunchy new-age bitch’s life when those words crack their calcified shells of concept and become actual warm, fluffy, sweet-peeping actualities with heart beats of their very own!  I can no longer deny that God has plans for me.  That I am on a dizzy, blindfolded walk along Destiny’s very own smooth, voluptuous body!

 

I was sitting on the veranda of Java Kai with my Personal Wizard this new born afternoon, eating a freshly avocado from the neighboring tree (salted, on the half shell)… when the café owner suddenly pointed to me and said, “I think she’s right here.  You’re the one who offers poems by donation, right?”

 

BLINK.  Blink.  “Yes.”  Blink.

 

She spoke to a man who sat at the adjacent table, in the very seat I had moved out of minutes before.  I let my eyes wander about him.  An older man.  White hair.  Angel soft blue eyes.  Dressed all in black, his t-shirt impressed with a generous helping of sweat.  A half eaten piece of berry pie with a dollop of homemade whipped cream bled seductively on the table before him.  I excused myself from Mister Wizard, curious, and pulled up the chair opposite him at his table.  He told me that he had seen me weeks ago, at the picnic tables on the lawn and been intrigued, but I had been inundated with customers… And he didn’t have the luxury of waiting his turn.  But ever since then, he had been asking around, seeking me out.  Sound familiar?  Think glass slippers and clocks that strike pumpkin.

 

He informed me that he was making a movie about cranio-sacral water massage and he wanted to include some poetry.

 

This is weird.  As I am trying to recall the details of the story, it feels so vague.  Truthfully, he was a pretty vague man.  In a good way.  I am left with a sense that most of our communication happened on a whole other plane anyway.  He spoke slowly and his mind was slippery-slimey like a big, iridescent rainbow fish on qualudes.  But speaking of all things rainbow… Marbles.  He mentioned that he had wandered the streets of Greece, once upon a time, carrying marbles in his pockets to play with the kids.  And that’s when I realized that I had two freshly excavated marbles nesting in the side pouch of my backpack, (happened upon in two unrelated, random moments) which I instantaneously retrieved.  He instructed me to roll them around in my palm.  He said that’s what the contemplative Greeks do.  I informed him my name is Athena.  It was all so weird.

 

Then he started telling me about his qi gong practice and invited me to attend class.  I have known for years, literally, that I am supposed to do qi gong… but I’ve been procrastinating taking the plunge.  He offered me some of his berry pie.  I refused.  He spoke at length of his passion for grappa.  I continued to feel the waves of his being as I followed the languidly meandering loop-dy-loops of his mind, rolling the inexplicable rainbow marbles in my palm all the while.

 

Poetry.  He finally circled back and touched down on the original entry point.  He said he wanted an oracle.  Was I familiar with the Greek Oracle?  He wanted me to enter a cave and emerge with subconscious streams of pure, prophetic wisdom.  He told me to google Oracle and see what I found.  “Lorenzo,” he spoke his name to me.

 

These moments we shared, I felt to be riding on the slippery, strong back of an orca through the waters of Destiny.  The thing that trips me out is that I have not been in the mood to lug my typewriter around lately and offer poetry.  And yet… the poetry is stalking ME.

 

Another example~ earlier in the day today, I looked at a room for rent in Hanalei.  When I got there, they informed me it was already rented… but the woman in charge of the lease happened to be a woman I wrote a poem for during the first week I landed here.  The young, soulful rockstar, Rosy.  She was surprised when I appeared in the threshold of her bedroom.  She showed me the poem I wrote for her tacked lovingly on her tasteful, artsy bulletin board.  She said she was ready for another one.  This one will grace the back of her next album cover, over an artistic photo of her.  Neato.

 

And the last weird thing… The guy who I hitched in to Hanalei with this am had given me a ride once before.  A young electrician who was smoking a Marlboro red.  I had squinched my face and almost turned down the ride, due to the cab full of curly, looming tendrils of carcinogen.  But he extinguished it on my behalf and I hopped in after all.  Today I informed him that I was going to look at a room for rent.  He reminded me that that is what I had been doing the last time I climbed into the cold, cancerous cab of his truck!  I searched my files for the affirmative.  Ah-ha!  It is true what the man says.  I have looked at a total of TWO rooms for rent in Hanalei.  He drove me to both of them! What does it mean?!  Nothing.  Shrug.  But it’s cool.

 

I asked this young, freckled, burnt out on bananas, Marlboro smoking, father of a ten year old, electrician for the *filth* rich contingency of Kauai if there was anything I could do to enhance his experience of being alive as we drove.  He wasn’t too thrilled by this offer… but he said sing him a song.  Yikes.  Why IS it that as soon as someone requests a song, my mind severely blanks???  I swear, I forgot every single one of the bajillion songs I had known a mere two seconds before… But I wrassled my demons and forced one out anyway.  Shri Krishna Govinda hare murare.  I give myself a B.  No plus or minus.  And certainly an A for penetrating my fear.  But in retrospect, I wish I had’ve made him a custom song.  I am going to.  And next time he gives me a ride (to look at a home in Hanalei), I will sing it for him.  It will be about smoking Marlboro reds and eating dehydrated banana chips that are mostly crispy, but a little chewy in the middle, and not liking rich people… and cinnamon gum wrappers strewn like Hawaiian snowflakes about the floor of his truck.

 

Life just keeps getting cooler and more amazing.  There’s a rumor going around that there’s even this thing called “tomorrow” that might happen if I go to sleep!  I’m so excited about this!!!

 

Amen.

Advertisements

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Rosy Moon
    Oct 28, 2010 @ 08:03:02

    Zowie!!! I love it. Particularly that last line. 🙂

    Reply

  2. Amy
    Oct 28, 2010 @ 09:29:36

    “And yet… the poetry is stalking ME.” So typical of the Universe…when we pull away, purpose is piled upon us.

    Happy home hunting, warrior woman.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: