Search Results for: im not a ghost

I was tired when we began our walk.  I wasn’t even sure it was a good idea.  But as I trudged up the hill, my feet heavy in my boots, my mind started to clear.

I told myself I didn’t want to think of all the things I still needed to do, I wanted to be present.  I wanted to feel the trees as I walked by them, to fill my brain with what was in front of me at the moment I was seeing it.

I focused on my breathing and felt my chest swell, as if it were leading me, the rest of my body following. I let the thoughts that ran through my head do what they wanted, ignoring them, so soon they floated away.  As I walked, my feet felt lighter as if I were being pulled along by the upper part of my body.

I breathed in opening my heart and kept it open when I breathed out too.

Suddenly Fate and Zinnia left the path and ran into the woods.  I followed them with my eyes and saw the flash of the long upright white tail bobbing like a ghost through the trees.

Soon I got to the place where the deer had been before we interrupted her.

I could tell she was there by the smell.  Like urine without the sting and decaying leaves. Not a bad smell, it was earthy and real.  Then I saw how the leaves were pushed aside and the ground scratched at where the deer had been searching for something to eat.

The dogs came back as they do and we moved on until  Fate stopped.  She waited ahead of me where the path can either turn right or go straight.   I stopped myself to decide which way to go when I saw the turkeys.  There were two of them moving quickly and very quietly, for turkeys.

They hurried out of sight and I decided to take the long path so we wouldn’t disturb them.

I thought of the owl and how we hadn’t seen her in a while.  Maybe she had enough of us.  Had checked us and figured we were okay and not going to do harm to her woods. I did pay attention to the trees with the holes in them and wondered if she lived in one of them.

My walk in the woods turned out to be restorative.  I was less tired when we left the woods than when we started.  And now I had perspective about all those things that had occupied my mind, that seemed so important and had to be done right away.

I think my walk in the woods opened me up to earth time.  So much slower than human time. Time measured by the season, by a leaf suspended, or a fern still green when all else is turning.

Now the path was covered in leaves.  Mostly a mottled yellow and pink but depending on the trees it might turn a rich reddish-orange almost as if someone had covered the ground with a throw rug.

Yesterday’s rain brought down a lot of the leaves.  But it must be too cold for most mushrooms. We didn’t see any orange newts either.

But we did see the Barred Owl.

The afternoon sun specked the woods with bright yellow light,  the shadows were a dark contrast, until I came to the part of the path that curved sharply to the left.

The woods around me had not changed, but further ahead the trees seemed to create an archway and beyond it, the forest looked like it was shrouded in a soft yellow haze.

I thought of how painters soften their colors as a way of creating perspective.  All those foggy landscapes behind the portraits of wealthy patrons or mystical beings.

I wanted to be in that soft glowing place.

But I stood looking at it a while longer, not wanting to hurry. I was afraid it would be like the mist on the farm in the mornings.  How it seems to dissipate when I walk into it. Yet at a distance, it’s so thick the trees are ghosts.

So I walked slowly, thinking that even if it faded as I got closer, I’d try to hold onto the feeling it evoked in me. That desire to dull my senses, to soften like the light.

When I finally did step over the threshold into that magical space I realized it was as much the yellowing ferns on the ground and the smooth gray bark of the beech trees as the light.

I walked the deer trail through the ferns that reminded me of faded paper,  my gaze gentle, the muscles in my face relaxing, my footfalls purposeful.

I was in the distance, in the background of the painting.  The part painted by the student of the master painter, whose name would never be known. A peaceful place to be.

But it didn’t last long.  Soon I was around the bend and up the hill.  That’s when the owl came again.

Fate and Zinnia were ahead of me and she flew between us across the path.  She landed close enough so I could see her eyes, and the lighter markings on her feathers.  Once again I said hello.

Soon she flew to a tree further away but still in sight.  I watched her until she swooped down from the branch in the opposite direction and disappeared into the woods.

I’m no longer surprised to see the owl.  I almost expect it. But, still,  I’m delighted and curious about how she keeps showing up.

It was one of those big old houses that had so many rooms, it was easy to get lost in,  even though I lived there.

Everything was covered in shades of dirty white peeling paint.  I walked  to the end of the hallway where the bathroom was.  Across from it was a bedroom and as I reached out for the bathroom doorknob, I felt five small, warm, soft fingers take my hand.

And although I knew I  was alone, the feeling was so visceral,  I could actually see the small  disembodied fingers on mine.

I knew it was a ghost and I tried to yell.

But  I was so scared, that not only couldn’t I make a sound, but I couldn’t move either.   I kept trying to yell.  After a while I was finally  able to move my body and I ran down the hallway and down the stairs to the first floor of the house.

It was only when I was downstairs and had calmed down, that I realized the ghost was a little girl and that I didn’t need to be afraid of her.  That she was probably looking for help to move on to the other side.

That’s when I woke up.

The dream got my attention.

It haunted me throughout the day. I began to wonder if the ghost girl in my dream wasn’t the same as  the “little Maria” that I’ve talked with over the years.  The little girl  who is me, who still lives inside of me.  The one who I’ve learned to reassure and sooth when I find myself scared or anxious for no good reason.

Maybe, like the ghost girl in the dream, the “‘little Maria” inside of me is ready to move on.

Ready to be integrated with who I am now.

I first spoke to “Little Maria” in therapy over 10 years ago.  “Go back in your mind”,  Selma, my therapist said to me, “to those times when you were frightening, traumatized.  Rescue your younger self. Talk to her, tell her what you wanted to hear back then.   Do what you have to do to get her out of those situations and into a safe place”.

We’ve been though a lot together me and “Little Maria”.  We’ve revisited many frightening  times and places from the past.  And I rescued her from all of them. Comforting and reassuring  her.  Bringing her home to live with me as I am now.

Is it time for me to let go of “Little Maria”?  How do I even do that?  Do I tell her, like I would a ghost, to “Go the light“?  That’ doesn’t feel right.  I can’t send her back out alone.

So maybe it’s not about letting go, but becoming one with each other.  It is an integration after all.  An integrated self.  I don’t know how that would happen.  At this moment, I can’t imagine it.

But I will.

I’ll work on it.  Research it. Figure it out.  Because I believe in this dream and what it’s telling me.  I wouldn’t hesitate to help the ghost girl in my dream to move on, I’m not going to hesitate to help myself.

I Finished sewing my wall hanging today.  It’s called “Your Moon is Full” and it is sold.  While I was working on it, I noticed the back and thought it was kinda interesting looking.  Ghost like, so I took a picture of it.  I like the line the bobbin thread makes, delicate and sketchy, like a soft pencil line. It’s gets me thinking….