SIBYL MAGAZINE—March 2017/ Bottom of An Hour-Glass
A PILGRIM SEEKING TEMPLES
Sandra Mattucci—Bottom of An Hour-Glass
One grain of sand slipped through a narrow chamber—another flowed effortlessly pouring itself over words drizzled at the bottom of an hour-glass. Before each speck of sand incased in an imaginary castle leading to far off never lands, a steady flow of thoughts filtered through my heart. I became mindful of a tree. I wondered if a tree should fall in a forest would the sound of its rippling across the earth’s floor be heard? Would there be a sound if NO one heard it fall? This question reverberated in my soul and walked the Camino in me.
Breathing in the chill of the morning’s air, I placed one foot followed by another on the ground. Soon I experienced a deep sense of wonder, of majesty, of beauty and , I listened. It was all about listening. Was there any sound? Did it matter? I felt deeply overwhelmed realizing that I had become this tree…no longer words sunken beneath sands. I climbed through the narrow space of the hour-glass spreading myself outward like branches stretching toward heaven’s dome. I saw myself as if in a mirror— the direction clear, but one I never saw coming. Every step became a painting. I was mindful of this sacred moment—of this terrain. Like an artist’s pallet, each ‘shoot’ of my being became a brush into which I dipped. The orange pink splashes of the sunrise illuminated the sky and danced around the horizon. I was drenched in the blue and white raindrops which pelted a gray sky. I slogged through deep brown mud and I danced in green buds that unfolded into every new day.
Life has turned the hour-glass. Walking now, I visualize more clearly how the bottom of the glass has become its top. But, when the sands are poured through, a new bottom became as did a new top. What an incredible reversal. Like life going round and round, new moments are given to each of us again and again.
As I took the time to re-read that last paragraph I penned, I paused to ask myself what it was that I had been saying. I am writing something new and as I re-live what was—it is old news and GOOD News. The hour glass sits. I am able to turn it over anytime. Actually, it turns itself without my having to do anything.
The trunk of this tree that I am (metaphorically speaking) is stronger than ever and at times I want to run from this knowing. The resilient strength within me echoes ‘be not afraid’ and I press forward. The hour glass stores countless lessons. It is not about ‘time’ or time running out. It is about the realization to draw life from the amount of time given and walk awakened into each day.