Friday, August 10, 2007

Breathing Into The Moon

When I first got my life back after the conman was arrested I was in shock. My life was in total disarray. I had no home. No belongings. No money. No job. No idea of where I'd gone and what had happened to me. My daughters were 1,000 miles away -- angry, confused, frightened about what had happened to their mother, would she ever find herself again? I didn't know.

Writing has always been my pathway to understanding. The day after his arrest, I got a full page coil-bound notepad and began to write. The words kept pouring out and out and out. In three weeks I filled the entire 300 pages of the book. And still I wrote.

One day, a couple of weeks after he was arrested, I ventured onto the Internet in search of answers. My questions led me to a forum for women and men who had been abused by a psychopath. Suddenly, it all made sense. Suddenly, I was not alone. In cyberspace I found my voice. Found my sense of wonder, my belief in me, in the power of love and the joy of being free of fear and sorrow, pain and regret. I found forgiveness. I found myself.

I've been a member of an online support forum ever since. My presence has waxed and waned over the years as I've grown more accustomed to living in the '3-D' world. However, I still visit, still connect with those who, in the ethereal world of cyber-communication, have become my friends. I've met a few of my online buddies -- it's been great. In fact, one of them was at my book launch last year.

There is power in cyberspace. As long as I stay grounded in myself, supported by my truth, my fearless belief in doing the right thing I am safe from being exploited. As long as I use the space judiciously, with my senses awakened to innuendo, deception and subterfuge I will stay free of those who would pull me into their web with their beguiling efforts to con me. For me, online support groups offered a place where I could engage in conversation with others who had had similar experiences without having to defend myself. I didn't have to justify what happened -- they understood. I didn't have to explain how I felt -- they knew. And, I didn't have to hide my pain -- they felt it too.

One of the groups I belonged to was managed by an amazing woman who not only is a gifted writer, but is also a very intelligent, wise and inspiring human being. I had left the group in 2005 about the same time I got serious about writing The Dandelion Spirit. Being off 'the boards' helped me focus on what I needed to do to complete the book. Recently, the manager of the group contacted me and I went back for a visit. What a delight to meet up with people who had journeyed through the same minefields I had when first I found myself in the terrifying no man's zone of recovery from an encounter with someone of the disorderly kind.

Online support forums are more than just chat rooms and message boards. A good one is filled with vital information about the subject matter. It has links and articles and stories about real people coming through similar circumstances as you.

Yesterday, I was checking out some of the information on the sidebars on the forum and stumbled across a section I hadn't realized was there. It was my section. A series of articles and poems contributed by me. The manager had created a beautiful background to my words with art and rich colours to set the words out from the page. What a surprise, and a delight!

As I read through the pages, I found a poem I'd written and forgotten about. In my twenties, I wrote a lot of poetry. I don't write it as often now, but when I do, I am reminded of the beauty of the form. Not the rhyming pentameter verse of my school years, but the free flowing, thoughts pouring of my mind at its creative core. I loved writing poetry. The feel of the words rich and round rippling across the page as they appear. Plumped out vowels. Full bodied consonants. Phrases flowing into a river of verse. Images laid down upon the sparseness of the page to create a picture of my inner landscape like paint upon a white canvas.

This August, Mars will appear like a second moon in the sky above us. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. To witness the universe in alignment in a way that will not happen in our lives again.

Life is like Mars close proximity to the earth. Everyday is filled with once in a lifetime opportunities to reveal the wonder and the beauty of who we are. Above us, the celestial blanket glitters in splendour, revealing the depths of space, giving us a glimpse of what can be when we let go of our fear of getting too close to the core of our magnificence. Inside us, our spirits rise in wonder as we pull back the veils of disbelief to reveal the awesome beauty of all we can be in freedom.

In freedom, I have been inspired to delve into my being, to explore my inner landscape, to rip away the fear of revealing the beauty and richness of my spirit, warts and all, so that I can be my one true self. In claiming my right to be a woman of wonder, I open myself up to heaven's door and breathe life into my one and only life.

The poem I wrote and forgot about, is entitled, Breathing Into The Moon. Thank you CZ for holding it in love and keeping it safe. In honour of Mars' close proximity to earth, and this once in a lifetime opportunity for every human being to be inspired by the beauty and wonder of the universe, I've included my poem below.



Breathing Into the Moon

By: M.L. Gallagher (2005)

The moon hangs high
golden light
punched out
a giant hole in night's blanket
leaving behind your cut-out face
smiling
Your voice a gentle whisper
filling the blood red blossom
of dawn's awareness
bursting upon me.
I loved you.
You gave my dreams wings to fly.

I catch my breath.
Waiting to hear
your voice drift silently
across the moonlit night
that lies so softly
in memories arms
filled with empty promises.
I fall to the ground.

I breathe.
The moon stands still.
As time reorders
its hands
touching
me in that place
where once your shadow fell
and claimed my every breath
as time stood still
and I disappeared
into your promises of flight.

The moon stands still
and still
I breathe
into the empty space
where once your face
shimmered beneath my hands
touching
your eyes
black as night
that tore my heart
wide open
as I held out my veins
open wide
to your sweet kisses in the night
The moon hung high
as you breathed life
into my dreams.

I breathe.
You disappear
and only the moon
peers down
with melancholy magic
to where I no longer feel
left out
upside down
without you
I breathe.

The moon hangs high
as I sink low
my breath catching
high
up
my heart pounding
the rhythm
of my spirits yearning
to fly
I lean back
into my soul
weeping
for the moments
where I dreamed
upon the moon
of midnight flights
captive in your arms
that lay across me
pinning me to the ground
holding me in darkness.

The moon
punch drunk
floats across the sky
and I breathe.
Freely.

Time passes
the moon rises
and I fall
back
into the void
of limitless possibilities
left in the wake of your passing by.

I breathe
my wings unfold.

I fly.

Free.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm also a member of an online support group (NDPH) in a site that hosts many groups. you should check it out - its www.mdjunction.com

keep the joy
Ann

M.L. Gallagher said...

Thanks Ann -- I just took a glance. Looks really good. I'll check it out more later -- and I'd never hear of NDPH before. Thank you!

Louise