May you Sweetly Seek:)
~ HOPE ON THE HILLTOP~
I awaken to the beauty of a quiet morning. On this day we are bidding “The Hilltop” goodbye. We are having an auction for all of the treasures that were once my grandparents, both passed away within two months of each other. Their hearts quickly slipped into the beauty of eternity together.
I wonder how today will feel? The intense heat…the undercurrent of sadness…the relief of letting go. It is early in the morning, and the crowds of people have not yet come to rummage through your life. I feel immune to their invasion in this stillness. It is my prayer that their fumbling won’t cause my heart to quiver. I stand with my camera trying to capture the essence of these alters. The sacred collections of your life have been piled upon the Earth. I feel like I am about to receive communion with the heritage of my ancestors. These 'things' are how we have remembered you…such a silly thought to see you through the eyes of lifeless objects. Mom and I cling to each other, kindred hearts searching for signs today. Please let know that you are with us. I offer the antidote of a walking meditation to mom so that she will feel your presence on this day in such a huge way. Please help us to have the faithful eyes of heaven.
I leave the hilltop and travel to work. We have meditation time at there and it is during this time that I ask my grandparents presence to be with me in an unmistakable way.
I see you in my meditation…my spacious place. I sit upon the hill that we went sled ridding on, the beautiful tree that decorated the side of the hill. With a quiet heart I hope that you will come, and you do in such an enormous and beautiful way. Hand in hand you climb the hill to where I am sitting. Grandma you have on your red and white checkered shirt, and grandpa you are in your miss matched plaids. My heart is so full for you. I have missed you in so many ways: the smell of your fluffy skin, the softness of your touch, the presence of your hearts, the steadfast faith, and the wishes of luck. Today is the day of the sale, and in the background the land is littered with your life. There are so many parts of you that others will be rustling through later on. You don’t seem to notice that as you reach out a hand to me grandma and brush my cheek. I asked for a gift from you and I know now that your gift is perfect sight. You don’t see the remembrances of your lives scattered about, all you see is me… We don’t talk; we just allow the land to hold our beautiful connection. Only the Earth will be able to withstand such a reunion….
It is almost time to return to the hill top, a drive in the shape of a horse shoe, a remembering of my grandpa who always wished us luck. The auction is ready to begin. I feel such heaviness in my heart…I see my mom in her checkered shirt and my lip starts to quiver. She looks like a lost little girl…an orphaned heart. I hug her and again we cling to one another as we begin to walk the drive. She joyfully exclaims that she found her sign during her meditation, not in the tears of the Earth, rather in the rafters of her father’s barn. Her spirit determined to turn the lights on led her to the discovery of an answered prayer. Amidst her search for illumination in the top rungs of the barn she stumbled across a window latch with the word HOPE…two horseshoes fell from above, and an old rusty lighter ignited her search. Her recount makes my soul so full! Spirit is so good in these precious moments of life where we stumble to feel our oneness.
The sale progresses in moments, instances of waiting. Just as a child waits in wonder for the miracle of Christmas, so too we wait for the miracle of transcendence. I purchase the Ramsey rocker, wondering how many times my grandfather sat in stillness, how many times his father sat in it…wondering if the swaying of our souls will somehow meet in the present. When it comes time to purchase his desk, I see myself sitting there in the swells of knowledge with him. I feel so proud to be of the same smiling heart. The sale wears on…trying our hearts with each bid, releasing our sadness with each strangers need. How bittersweet to watch as ones exterior life is dismantled. The ease of letting go reveals itself in each heartstrings of this process. A storm bursts overhead and with each drop of rain a cleansing occurs. This baptism stirs the sky’s palette and soaks these treasures of life.
People collect their new riches leaving a hole in the landscape once so luxurious with life. A sacred space has been cleared for the gift of change. My mom and her sister Judy are the consummate caretakers, and I wonder now who will watch over them? We tend to the leftovers of the sale so that Mother Earth may once again breathe and regenerate. The sky quiets herself with shades of tangerine and pink sherbet. We wander to the piles of treasures, carefully recycling them. Our hearts have been forever marked.
All three of us head to our cars, only to be stopped by a bright light. A light bulb flickers from an out building. The three of us scurry over to the building, wondering who flipped the switch. Night pulls the covers of light over her head and summons us to watch. We carefully extinguish this light as we turn to grey skies and see the promise of hope…a rainbow is forming in the sky, ushering our hearts to delight in the glory after the storm. Night continues to entice us as we hug and bid the hilltop goodbye. This my friends is where we found our hope…quietly on “The Hilltop.”