The Illusion

Adam Gottlieb and I serendipitously met years ago on a dirt road in a forest in Tennessee.  It was at the annual Rainbow Gathering, and he was handing out his music cds with a big smile and a hug.  Several thousand people attend the gathering every year, and Adam was handing his cd out to so many people that he naturally did not remember our brief encounter.  But I remember him. As I drove away from the event with only one cd to listen to, I listened to Adam over and over again, and felt his soul speak.  

Adam lives in Chicago.

Adam takes the art of spoken word to the west suburbs three weeks a month where he runs workshops, an open mic, and hosts featured musicians in behalf of providing a creative writing outlet for teenagers.  He heard me sing at an open mic earlier in the week, and invited me to join their event as their featured artist. I also met his lovely partner, Diana, and we all bonded on a foundation of authenticity, a passion for artistic expression, and the exciting potential of our not-so-coincidental connection.  

Last night on a beautifully lit black stage, I was honored to perform for the talented writers and poets of WordPlay. Afterward, Adam gave me a most touching compliment. "You have become a symbol. You symbolize dreams coming true." 

The first hour I participated in their writing workshop.  As a thank you to Adam and the folks at WordPlay, I am sharing my writing piece publicly.  Thank you, dear new friends, for a phenomenal evening!

The writing exercise was to write about an image.  I chose this one:

The Illusion

I saw myself as a goddess in the mirror, my wistful white dress blowing in the perfectly mild wind, like a Hollywood set fan.  I proclaimed out loud that I was a goddess.  Little elves appeared and placed a crown on my head.  I was eight feet tall, slender, with kind, compassionate eyes.  I looked to my left and to my right slowly, with deliberation and purpose, and knew- I was special.

I looked again in the mirror, and I found myself having to choose between two realities.  I saw that I looked ordinary, small.  I was wearing leggings and a sweater, just like everyone else.  And I coughed.  Do goddesses cough? I wondered where she went, that beautiful goddess, and where is my crown.  I felt afraid I had lost her.  Maybe the throngs of people are right, all the jaded cynics, the beer drinker pot-bellies on the sidelines, the finger pointers.  Maybe we really are all just insignificant faces in the veins of humanity, thirsty for something to numb us from the lie of our grandiosity.  Perhaps we are simply just thirsty for magic mirrors like mine, and illusionary sequinned dresses from Hollywood's wardrobe hangers.  I hung my head
looking down
bowing down
sinking down
praying down
and I sunk deeper and deeper...

...into my inner whisper

that perfectly mild wind, generated from the pulse beneath my chest.  I leaned in closer, deeper, and heard the words lock together with the foundational building blocks that create quiet, strong miracles.  I came out from my inner wind chamber with a gasp of new breath.  I lifted my head.  I looked to my left and to my right slowly, with deliberation and purpose, and knew-

I was a goddess in leggings and a sweater, who coughs when there is something in my human throat, and wears an invisible crowned, adorned upon my head by invisible little elves.  I am currently taking the form of a human, and it is my job to look at the world with kind, compassionate eyes. I am wearing my white goddess dress every day under my sweaters and leggings, and it is my job to wear it, and to bring together my seemingly separate realities.

And then I look at you.  I know, as I sit up straighter, and my crown shines brighter, that the more I own my goddessness, the more I give you permission to do the same.  Together WE are the throng of people, not anyone else, and together we point our fingers at the finger pointers, the jaded cynics, and the pot bellies and yell from our bursting hearts, "YOU ARE DIVINITY."  And they look in their mirrors and remember, and they join us, each of us, a significant face in the vein of humanity, walking amongst one another in the crystal palaces of our own magnificence.  

The illusion is and has always been any message that hides the divine.  The truth is we are kings and queens.  Lucky for you, I remember this.  Lucky for me, you know it too.  Lucky for us both, we can be each others' mirrors whenever we forget who we really are.