SIBYL MAGAZINE—July 2017/ A Return to Eden

SIBYL MAGAZINE—July 2017/ A Return to Eden

A Pilgrim Seeking Temples

Sandra Mattucci—A Return to Eden

A rush of emotions fills me.  Like a bottle uncapped, the liquid inside splashes me—its endless fizzle drenches me with delight.  What is it?  I believe no word yet created describes the daily ‘present’ I swim within.  This present ‘sea’ enveloping me is more than ‘feelings.’  Each new dawning rises inside my being and I am bathed in the flow of life.

As I walked the Camino, dramatic moments captured me.  A waterfall of tears dropped from the corners of my eyes.  At times, I barely breathed as emotions flooded my being.  Still, joy washed through me that I could not satisfactorily explain.  I was embraced in peace—I was alone but did not need nor wish the void to be filled.  I did not want to leave these tranquil surroundings.  I desired to hold sacred this place much like a mother who holds her child for the first time.  But—I had to let go.  I was entering Eden again slogging through the mud realizing the grounds of life beneath my feet.  Every foot step I walk, have walked, will walk tills me in this garden within its soil.  Eden’s beginnings bear fruit everywhere I glance and beyond my gaze what is planted is bursting with life.  I’m immersed in a lush fertile blanket of life.

I am absorbed in the succulence I taste daily.  Each day I choose my path at times without realizing the adventure ahead.  Yet, I select unafraid to bite.  I abundantly consume all the original blessings allowing the juices to wash over me moistening my lips, cascading down my chin, over my naked breasts and quietly prayer sings itself into being.  Prayer is my breath.

All around me beauty abounds—endless birthing fills this garden spreading itself with the gifts of life.  Shadows appear of faces past and of the futures that yet have not arrived.  This Eden is a Holy womb of splendor.  I am draped in heaven, not in some place beyond.  I frolic, running with ease.  I have stopped bowing, genuflecting and I am extending my hands like the wings of a bird.  I am in flight.  Yes, I fly.  I fly and a voice softly echoes, “Daughter play, play in this garden and when you tire, rest and I will be there stroking your brow.  I will hold you and when you wake, I will dip you into the sea where a host of dolphins will carry you upon the waves.  I will be right here, daughter.  How I love your laughter…the exuberance of your tender innocence.  Laugh again and again until you begin to cry.  I will cry with you for you have found the solitude you have sought.  It has been within you.  One day you’ll leave this garden but your seeds will sprout and others will taste the ‘you’ dwelling in all.”

You are this garden.  A return to Eden—unspoken oneness over and over.

Until August,
Buen Camino