Hello you,
Before I immersed myself in natural pigments and textiles, I was a writer, though I find myself less engaged in that pursuit these days. Recently, while clearing out one of my cluttered rooms, I stumbled upon a box filled with typewritten pages I created over twenty years ago. This was a time when I was exploring my creativity and spirituality through writing.
I’d like to share a glimpse (I hope you don’t mind using your imagination) of a message I received from the other side, from a soul with whom I’ve shared several life times The brief stories and poems that follow may offer insights into themes from those past experiences. With the current times often bringing out impatience and judgement in people, alongside the bittersweet reflections of Valentine’s Day can evoke, I felt compelled to share this all with you.
**I.** In 1592, I was a sharecropper on some property in Wales. You were a peasant girl who lived next door to me. I was a mean, craggy old man who had no interest in seeing the beauty in life. I resented your youth and charm. Sometimes, I would watch you outside, and you seemed lost in your own world. You used to put on plays for your dog, cats, or anyone who would listen to you. You were quite lonely, but you had the best time using your imagination. You showed me how to make the best of my life, no matter where I was. Your innocence didn’t see my mean-spirited ways, and you invited me over to your yard to watch you sing and play various parts in a skit. You made me laugh, and I didn’t want to. I went home that night, and I thought of you. I cried like no man had ever cried before because you touched my heart when I didn’t know I had one left. All of my money was taken when a deal I had invested in went sour. I was left to work through my retirement or twilight years until my death. I didn’t have any family or friends who wanted to be with me because of my temper and coldness.
(Florence Harrison Illustrator ‘The Goblin Market’
I died two summers after you invited me to watch your play, and I can honestly say that day changed my outlook on life. Laughing felt so good to me. I had forgotten that I once had a sense of humor. I used to tell you old jokes, and you would laugh. When I was sick with pneumonia, you would sometimes cook for me and read to me. You were poor, but your mother taught you how to read and write. When I passed from the earth, I saw how you wept for me. You and your mother were the only ones who attended my funeral. Your tears were real and genuine. You helped me find my heart again. I didn’t get to experience that for very long, and I wasn’t able to give my heart to anyone since my life ended shortly after I found it.
**II.** There was another time when we were together. I was a young man of twenty-two, and you were twenty-eight years old. You were the headmaster of an all-girls school. You were set in your ways and followed all the rules during this time, which was 1923. Your clothing was very conservative, and you never wore anything revealing. I met you because your school needed a music teacher. I taught the first through third graders how to sing Christmas songs, and we all went caroling together on Christmas Eve.
I’m afraid your heart caught fire for mine, but my heart didn’t feel the same. I played with you, knowing you had a crush on me. I was a rather devilishly handsome man. Most of the girls I met adored me, and I knew how to sway them with my boyish charm. Even though I was younger than you, you felt compelled to get my attention. I noticed how your skirts would sometimes reveal a bare calf, which was very risqué for you, especially since you were at a prominent and conservative school. You asked me to teach you singing lessons, and you would look at me adoringly. I didn’t have the heart to tell you I was going to get engaged. I knew you desperately wanted to kiss me, and instead, I told you that I was going to be a married man and didn’t think it was appropriate to kiss the headmaster of the school where I worked.
Our relationship ended when I moved to the countryside with my new wife, Belinda. We never saw each other again, but I know I helped loosen your rigid views of what a lady should be like. I made you laugh, and your openness and flirty behavior influenced the young girls you were ahead of. They, too, liked the new Miss Bright. You later married in life but never had children. I used to think of you throughout my years in that life, and you of me.
Connection
He grabbed my hand
and lulled me toward his lair.
His chin nestled in my hair.
I looked into his midnight eyes
and did not doubt the feelings inside.
He moved me in such a fashion
that I lost my grace and let loose my passion.
Do not judge me for things past said,
but for how love was felt instead.
The lovers parted in their bodies
but never from their hearts.
The feelings pushed from either line
felt like receiving a Valentine.
This connection thus felt was real indeed,
but never known for others to see.
It was only in their hearts that believed
such a thing could happen in their reality.
Thy Plight
The wind that howls in the night
keeps me company throughout my plight.
I am singing, hoping she will hear,
knowing that she is with another dear.
This is something that is old but true:
to love another who cannot choose.
For now, I hold the vision of her hair
blown in the wind;
for this will warm the plight I’m in.
If you made it all the way to the end…thank you for supporting me. I’m trying to find the balance between the botanical side, healing and creativity. Bear with me as I wing it.
Molly–