I’ve been called back to council

My day to day tasks have been sidelined

My pleasure delayed

The sun is out

I’m affirming this life

As the day goes on the knock of the staff gets louder

Outside of my eyes are my friends and my activities

But behind my eyes

Deep in the cave of my heart

The women are gathering

My actual floor creaks

My window budges open

A presences passes

Today, I unknowingly prepared

Cleaning the house

Opening the windows

Clearing the space

Caring for myself

Now I’m here.

Seated.

Initiating my sacred

Evoking Reverence for the now that has passed

In each moment I lived today.

It takes me a long time to get warm even though the fires are lit

For the world outside of me has my attention.

I’m sitting, reeling it back.

I’ve willingly gone out beyond my recall

Offering my practice up to be forgotten

Having faith, I will remember.

But not knowing when remembering will return.

Now I’m here seated.

Being ushered to my seat by my remembering

There are others who sit in council with me.

Angelic voices who serenade.

Singing into our space a living presence from a world long forgotten

There is even a smell.

Sweet.

Robust. Buttery.

Earthy, like dirt but magenta in its richness.

As I relax my jaw, my shoulders are pulled back

My hair is being braided

I’m being prepared

Cloaked

Refilled

As I come to sit

It’s an initiation every time.

A Homecoming.

The forgetting is longer.

And the heart inside of my chest burns.

When I come home to council, I sit.

I sort information, experiences, personality types, my responses to a new daily life.

I am in dialogue with those who I sit with.

Receiving information, epiphanies, advice, direction, support

Then the sensation of closure comes.

It’s time to go.

The fires are put out.

The warmth leaves.

And I’m left with a knowing.

That I’m not alone.

That forgetting is coming again.

And to trust it.

Trust is a different type of timeline.