Path of innocence

The significance of meeting my Writing Angel on the Yonge car stays with me, so here I am. Thought that I would share a song I wrote this past year as it narrates an event involving a childhood friend.  As a child, this experience was overwhelming and in response I moved away from my centre a little bit more.  Writing is a way to come back to myself. 

  I am not a musician, but several of my writing pieces this past year have been songs. Sometimes melodies come to me with the words, sometimes they do not. The words to this piece came easy to me, but it was heart wrecking work to write. 

Garden Gate

She lost her innocence just past the garden gate.

In a screened in porch,

popcans and cookies artfully 

placed on a plate.

She was the lamb

who entered the shower.

Sat on his lap

taken to slaughter.

She was the one blamed for being such a loud mouth.

Smoking an cussing,

showing up late.

While I felt like a coward,

she lost her innocence just past eight.

And I felt it all

outside the gate.

Wondering now if I could have stopped her, but I ran

like a stranger embracing escape.

                                                          c.  Onyx Uriarte 2010

There's that word again-" innocence" the Writing Angel used it when he said to me that his mermaids and innocence would overcome darkness. 

 When I look innocence up in the dictionary it means "free of all evil" or "foolishly trustful". 

When I look to the Mayan divination card  of New Myth (which I recently picked from the deck of cards- nice synchronicity here!) -this card speaks of noticing the metaphors of your daily life as the moments unfold.  To be present to now and creator of your own personal myth- purpose. And that this way of being is the path of trust, the path of innocence.

So what does this return to innocence really look like? Feel like?

I reminded of a surprising occurrence someone close shared with me.  

They were in conversation with one of their in- laws- a woman who sometimes does unusual things like phoning to say, " Don't ride your motorcycle today"- and the two of them began to talk about me when suddenly she became entranced making a beckoning gesture.  This woman then began to repeat over and over again for me to "come home".  She sat with these words and gesture for about 30 minutes! ( I did mention she could be unusual) 

When I heard this it was so affirming.  Affirming that I am on my way, walking home to myself, everyday....  Walking the mystical path with practical feet- Basque saying.

 This return home as a life process I read in the words of Ted Kaptchuk , author of "The Web That Has No Weaver, "  -  "Healing is a crucible to encounter the source of our being in worst times; it is our genuine and potentially intact response to chaos, anguish, and suffering... an opportunity to uncover the truth of who we really are....Healing is not something we do only when we are sick; it is part of the process and journey of life"

And so I write....