I lay quietly on my bare wooden floor.
My eyes are closed, and my breathing is even. All that is negative in my body empties through my pores as perspiration. It smells like tepid water sitting out too long, but strangely, I don't mind the aroma because it's born from a part of me that needs to be released. On the wind are unseen vibrations radiating outward from the crashing waves on the sands not less than a mile from where I lay. They are in the air when I take my next deep breath, energizing all that has caused my posture to suffer from the weight of things that are not mine but the problems of others. I feel the cartilage in my spine, sternum, and knees pop while my form naturally lengthens. My shoulders pull back, bringing my chest forward and my chin up. Exiting my pores in the form of a dark liquid, it gives off the aroma of day-old rice sitting in a pot.There's a road near my house with a large sidewalk, and on it, I hear a mother cooing to her child, who, by the sounds of her crying, is not pleased with walking under the morning sun. The frequency of those tears and pleading moved the chimes outside my door, made of psychically bent forks and spoons, to sing in pulses to mirror the frustration of the little one. I inhaled that melancholy and let it out through my nose and mouth, where it tickled the tiny hairs inside my nostrils. Leaving on the surface of my tongue and gliding between my teeth and lips, it felt like cool mint.
"Come," I heard the female voice. "Join me in meditation."
A beautiful voice that I felt more than I had heard. It was like clear water, which carried a kind of clarity so clear that you couldn't tell where the bottom of it was if it were a pond, lake, or the ocean itself. This manner of voice makes you inclined to jump in without considering the implications.
"Come, John," she called my name. "We can sit and listen to the unheard and see the unseen. All you need to do is sit here with me."
My mind's eye opened, and there she was—sitting with her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her clothing, a terry-cloth tracksuit, seemed out of place for our island climate. Her dark skin matched the chocolate color of the suit, and her hair naturally fell about her shoulders. Her eyes had a cat-like intensity, and her lips were pursed in a half-sarcastic grin. On the floor around her were Mandarava blossoms, which also seemed out of place, knowing the history of those flowers and what they mean in Tantric Buddhism.
"Shouldn't you be dressed differently and surrounded by lehua blossoms instead of Mandarava?" I asked.
"I assumed you were doing tantric breathing, so I took this form," she shrugged. Her appearance changed to wearing a Kīkepa and having a bright red lehua blossom behind her right ear. "Is this easier? Will you awake and sit with me?'
"Rather than awake and sit," I began. "Can we breathe together?"
"I will sit," she sat up and crossed her legs. "You breathe."
I inhaled, and dark embers in her hair began to glow bright orange and then red. Exhaling, the fiery red glow cooled until it became black. Inhaling, the whole process started again; bright red embers came to life to the point of fire and muted again until black as ash.
"Who can you be?" My mind inquired.
"Passing by was I, and I noticed that nature around me ebbed and flowed, not just the ocean but visible nature. Then, I heard and felt the deep breathing and found you. I thought I could help you amplify your beautiful breathing pattern so that you could align more deeply with nature, but it was apparent to me that you already understand it," she explained. "And you're human, which strikes me as unique."
"You are Pele, the mother of fire." I awoke and sat up. In her place was a black heat impression, yet the profusion of Lehua blossoms was fresh as if they had just been picked. She, the hewer of the earth, was gone.
~
My wishful thinking tells me that, overlooking the vast land that is hers, even Pele herself must have quiet moments to reflect on her own, where she needs a moment to breathe.
Awesome
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