How strange it is to come here for such a short time. To be simply an idea until someone else offers you space inside the waters of their womb. To struggle through the birth canal and enter this world in a suit of flesh. To walk upon sacred lands but not always feel connected. To believe ferociously, then change your mind. To meet friends and loose them. To have family and un-choose them. How strange it is to need love and know love but not always allow love. To suffer for year upon year under the illusion that you are anything but love. Then, there are those fleeting precious moments however, when you truly touch your place. Under the clouds perhaps, surrounded by trees, against a setting sun, and you trust. You know. Briefly of course because, that too slips away. But perhaps each recognition sprouts a root. Perhaps the rememberings wiggle at the heart. Gently, ever so slightly, until one day When your suit is weathered and your perspective soft, You can hold that knowing. You can honor that gateway through which you entered. Thank the beings who journeyed alongside you. And lift your weary arms in celebration For all that was And is And continues to come. - Josette Eales