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I am starting to realize that as we grow older we do look back, in spite of the fact that I am well aware of what happened to Lot’s wife in the Bible when she looked back at the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah…she turned to stone! Yikes! Nevertheless I know I am not the only one at my age who does this…is it useful? We are supposed to always live in the present aren’t we?

Yucatan Nights

 

Memories of my childhood on the farm

Come rushing back again,

As darkness descends on rural Yucatan.

Overhead brilliant stars and moonlit skies,

While darkness surrounds me –

As I wander the stone pathways of the posada.

 

Dogs bark, roosters crow, crickets chirp,

Unseen cars speed by on nearby highways.

Distant laughter and music can be heard from the village,

As I walk alone this night –

As I have felt on hundreds of similar nights.

 

Decades have passed,

As have thousands of moonlit nights,

And yet, while no longer physically alone,

There still are times no matter where I might be –

When come rushing back,

Memories of times like these –

Alone.

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We have been attending weekly meditation sessions with a few friends. During one of the earlier sessions, our facilitator guided us to the place described in the story – a lively steam, grasslands up to our knees and a wonderful forest of tall trees. I was frustrated by the fact that I never left the rock. Mulling over the session later, I was given this explanation by my Spirit… –

Just One of the Boys

With pant legs rolled up,

The boys waded into the cool, clear stream.

Summer had begun;

The adventures would start anew,

As they had year after year

Since before they had become teenagers.

 

One by one they left the stream,

Walking ashore into the inviting woodlands,

Tall grasses rising up to their knees.

Lingering, he climbed upon a large rock

In the middle of the stream,

As he watched the others slowly disappear from his view.

 

Feeling  somewhat contented, he wondered about his future –

What would be his true path?

Tears began flowing down his cheeks

Into the cool, shimmering stream,

Reflecting his adolescent face.

 

He tightly closed his eyes-

Visions of layers of himself peeling away,

As the tears fell.

To which of his friends could he reveal

His secret – sacrificing their friendships?

For even at his young and tender age he knew –

Once the secret was out in the open,

There would be no more adventures –

Just loneliness, more hidden secrets

More layers waiting to be peeled away.

 

Looking up

His friends came around the corner of the woods,

Questioning his decision to remain behind,

Sitting on the rock in the middle of the stream.

This summer – perhaps his last with them,

He would continue to be –

Just one of the boys.

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