Again, I find myself sitting on Anemone's front porch tired and aching. I rub the swollen joints of my hands without thinking. I'd probably never notice that I do this if it wasn't for the fact that so many people point it out to me, like Anemone does now as she walks out from behind her beaded curtain carrying a bowl of fresh cut fruits and vegetables, and two glasses of homemade pineapple green drink. It's evening this time. The ocean breeze is cooler than the first visit, and is carrying with it the scent of something sweet smelling growing up the hill from us. The sinking sun on our right is casting crimson sparks on the waves as they break.
"Take a deep breath," she instructs me. "Breathe in the energy of this ocean breeze, and then exhale your anxiety through your feet. Find your ground."
This sounds so familiar to me. I do as she instructs, and then timidly ask, "What do you see when you look at me?" I remember a time when I used to look at my past with harsh criticism. Instead, a familiar faded smile lightens her face as she takes another sip of the green nectar, and then she invites me to see for myself.
Through her eyes, I see a place very different from the one where we're sitting. A land rich in diversity, from rocky rolling hills thriving with thorny mesquite and prickly pear to muggy muddy woodlands densely lush and green. Far away on the horizon is the ocean. On one of the hills, water is bubbling up from the ground, and trickling down in all directions. Most of these tiny streams, though, are being channeled into a well eroded ditch that leads to a concrete retention pond where the water stagnates and evaporates.
"This is the watershed you're at in your life right now." She explains. "You're tottering on the edge where streams of energy still flow behind you as it always has in the past, and some are starting to flow before you to create new rivers and streams. Because they tend to travel the path of least resistance, you're struggling to move forward. The path behind you is well worn, but you've made it through the hardest part. You made it up the hill, against the current, to get here. Now you try to force the streams to change their directions by forcing yourself to move forward and hoping they will follow. You have already begun to damn up the old streams that you no longer wish your energy to travel, but now you need to gently guide them to move in the direction you wish to go, and then
you will follow."
Back on Anemone's patio, I sit silently contemplating. She leans over to light one of the candles that still has some life in it, and then picks up our empty dishes to carry them back inside. When she returns, she is carrying cupped in her hands a light that takes the form of dolphins. She hands them to me, and as I take hold, she gently pushes my hands toward my heart. When I touch my chest, the light disappears.
"The ones closest to you right now, don't understand you." The gentleness in her voice eases my tension. "They don't understand why you don't just pick yourself up and move forward. Be patient with them and yourself." She stresses the latter. "In your dreams dolphins represent your spiritual energy. The gift I have given you is to remind you to feed them first, then your streams will change direction and take you where you need to go."
I want to thank her, but don't know how. She hugs me, and I realize that she already knows.
