Tuesday, July 20

Sandtray

She began her morning in a sinking blue lake surrounded by white sands. In that time she saw four images standing there, or perhaps floating, she's still not completely sure. Nonetheless, she began the timed descent into meaning.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a bloodied set of bones. Eyes gorged out. She wondered what happened. Figured it must have been unearthed. There was something in there about the rawness of it all, of blinders and misconceptions. Mostly it comes down to delusion. But doesn't it all anyway?

Then there was this box. It was black and had four tiny little teacups inside. Alice in Wonderland style. Wishing now for the Mad-hatter to appear. Something about the memories of healing came out towards the end, but in the interim it was mostly sealed shut. This box has deep sunset red designs on it, swirling about like the sacred geometric patterns that were later pinned into her spine.

After that a person appeared. They seemed a bit disillusioned and quite hidden. All wrapped up in some natural fabric, they decided to find rest on top that box. A Pandora's box. Now with a mummy on top. The look on their face is hard to describe. It seemed as if they had finally found peace in the shroud. Eye's remained shut. Closed tight to all else but the immediacy of their experience.

The fist that stood guard in front of that box was full of rage. It just stood there, as if it had always been part of the story. Part of that scene. And it was. It was just more hidden is all, more repressed is more like it and now it was just showing up. Just showing up.

When the vagina appeared, the conversation ceased. It was like all thoughts were now on that. It seemed unusual at first, and she didn't want to acknowledge it. Just too much shit coming up here, now. Just too much. That's when the person wrapped in natural fabric decided to make their way on top of the box. Just keep it closed, don't worry. No violence here.

More swirling designs, landing into nothing, yet becoming whole. Tears falling. Patterns breaking. Seeking. Mostly seeking now, to find her way out of this created mess.

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