In this lifetime, I spent many a day, wondering why I was so drawn to the Ocean. Never really knowing why. I couldn't place my finger on it. It haunted me at times. Where I was raised, was not that close to the Ocean. As you all well know of the Ports of New England, my Ocean hauntings couldn't bridge with those surroundings. It took years to make sense of those mental meanderings.
It wasn't until Brook and I had moved in together, where those meanderings took shape. Brook had brought with her, the missing puzzle pieces. Our bathroom has lighthouses, a model of a clipper ship, some dolphins, huge wooden boat anchor, I mean after all you wouldn't want to hang a real one on the wall now would you? A boat mirror, a fish carved with a chain saw, another clipper mounted in a frame to hang on the wall, and even a wooden steer wheel. Lots of sea shells and finally candles in between all the voids. Also a monkey hiding his eyes. lols.
Now I realize what the monkey represented. The real meaning. Not the face value one. As it turns out, I was the monkey. Blinded by my two hands. The artifacts in our bathroom were the triggers. It would seem our bathroom had a hidden AGENDA.
The soundings of the wind returned. And I'm not talking about farts either. lols. Even the feelings of touching the polished framings. Polished by salt and water. Memories of the sails catching that wind, echoed in my mind. Knowing that those echoes were the moment of where you plugged into Mother Nature. You could feel the anticipation of that moment. She would grab hold and lurch forward. A dance took place in those moments. Between the Captain and a sea Goddess.
For the most part, my ships were never fired upon. There was a time or two when some of locals would have to much of a good time with drink and lit a fuse or two. But they always missed the target. The arrival and the pulling up to a port, was an event. The community was always alerted and vendors would ambitiously make their way to board us. We had stuff that they didn't have. And we usually unloaded more than we loaded. Spices were a money maker, while fruit, not so much. I remember giving fruit away to many of the kids who ran around in their tattered clothing. Fruit was hard to keep. Barrels of salted fish was another good one as we had different kinds. Let's not forget the special orders either. In my way of thinking, cargo was cargo. I hauled a little of everything. The key to my business was reliability. Fullfilling contracted orders for whoever could pay the price. There usually was put into place a return date or the whenabouts. It seemed that you didn't make a profit on the first trip. You made up for it on the second, third trips. Till that money ran dry. There was always a scampering going on from port to port. The weather was key. You had to be patient beyond the norm. If you didn't exercise patience, you always paid for it. Mother Earth made sure that you did.
Rocks and Goddesses aren't good for each other. Days of waiting for that moment of the bridal connection with your Goddess, could separate your mind. When that connection would seem like she was on steroids, you'd think you were riding a Brahma bull. The howling of the wind along with the wave action, could make anyone beg for mercy. Keeping cargo in place was a daunting task at these times.
My company operated out of Greece. Southwest. My home was on the outshirts, overlooking the Ocean. I remember it so well. On a side of a small hill in a mountainous area looking over the Ocean. A great look out advantage for my returning ships to port.
They called me Morpheus. The Maker of Dreams. But the current historical record has me listed as,
Morpheus was the God of Dreams, the one with the amazing ability of appearing in dreams of mortals in any form. As his name implies – the Greek word “morphe” means “form” – he was the one who shaped and formed the dreams.
You could say that. But in truth, not so much. One such commodity in my cargo hold was Opium. We never spoke the true name of it. We called it, deck tar. It was stored in a variety of sizes, pending on where it came from. Another reason why my ships weren't fired upon. My cargo was no secret. My home was surrounded with mountainous type hills adorned with the poppy flowers.
Brook was so instrumental in these memories too as she said, "look out of the opening of your sanctury." I'll be.....! How did she know this? In a session, she made me burn all those fields.
So to sum that up, I was a major importer and exporter of the dream causing agent. And maybe, just maybe, folks dreamed knowing where and the who, who had provided their escapes into an unknown reality, called a dream. Love ya Zeus!
Some things are surely back to front. Maybe, traveling back, wasn't like traveling back at all. Memories will catch up to you. It depends on the prevaling winds of time. The real question that remains is, "What's in your bathroom?"
Namaste'
Re: Put Another Log On The Fire
Posted by onawah (here)
Reply With Quote
Bookmarks