Out after dark looking for the Muse #799

Apr62020

I turn around quickly,

feeling my stomach quiver.

All I can see is the end of a fingertip

writing on the back door window.

My heart races.

She hasn’t been here in a while…

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This is It and Frida Kahlo Socks

I am alone in the kitchen drinking tea.

Everything is dark except the light over the stove.

The dishes are done and the house is quiet.

My time.

I sit down, I am not ready for bed yet.

I want to digest what I see happening

in our sweet world,

to honor it with my focused attention.

This all feels like too much.

How can we hold it all?

Are we supposed to?

I am startled by a strange sound.

I turn around quickly,

feeling my stomach quiver.

All I can see is the end of a fingertip

writing on the back door window.

I know who it is – I freeze.

My heart races.

She hasn’t been here in a while.

I read her fingerprinted writing.

It says: THIS IS IT!

I know it is her – the Muse is here!

I rush to the door and fling it open.

I could use some of her uncanny wisdom

and dark mirth right about now.

She is disappearing in the black night.

I see the edge of a red garment

dashing behind the neighbor’s hedge.

Without thinking, I run out after her.

I dash into the neighbor’s yard,

She is nowhere to be seen.

I am afraid if I move they will see me.

They may think me a predator

or a mad woman! Perhaps I am.

Shall I tell them,

I am looking for a Muse

in a red cloak?

Likely not, they already think I am strange.

It has been raining and my socks are soaked.

I can’t stand the feeling!

I peel them off.

My feet soak deep into wet grass.

The feeling of sole of foot on soil

makes me gasp sharply.

I start to cry, in a thin string of sound

from a tangle in my belly.

I feel as if I will burst. I can’t breathe.

I make my way to the street, still gasping.

I walk through the neighborhood.

Everything is so quiet –

I am quieting my soul.

Words begin to rise up in me,

with every step I take.

I walk in the dark for the desolate.

I walk in the dark for the lonely.

I walk in the dark for the sick, the dying.

I walk in the dark for the ignorant.

I pick up my speed.

I don’t know where I am going.

I just keep walking and talking.

I walk in the dark for those without a safe home.

I walk in the dark for the violent.

For those experiencing violence.

I walk in the dark for children hidden from view.

I walk in the dark for any being in fear.

I walk right down the middle of the street.

Smelling rain on asphalt. Everything smells good.

The scent makes me think of childhood.

How I started withholding love,

so early in life.

How I guard my heart,

thinking I will save myself from future pain,

even though I know I won’t.

I think about how often I want to hide,

and how I hide in plain sight.

Faint light begins to illuminate the path.

How subtle the change of light is

if you happen to be out walking

in suburbia after midnight

with no shoes on

searching for a muse,

lamenting a heart that feels too hard.

You see and hear everything

you never knew mattered to you.

The light in a lone window

a man is reading in spectacles.

A dog chained up

a child’s abandoned plastic bike

an overflowing garbage can

the yellow eyes of a black cat

a tiny library box with free books

a flag on the mail box indicating

there is a letter waiting to go out

a woman at the kitchen sink.

She thinks she sees me,

but she can’t be sure.

I walk on.

Everything is a poem,

beauty in ordinary garments.

Tears dry on my face.

I start to feel…

Is this joy? It can’t be joy!

There is too much suffering

to feel joy right now…

I walk in the dark for the suffering.

I walk in the dark for the helpers of all.

I walk in the dark for hardened hearts.

Then I realize, it isn’t dark anymore.

It is the color of pale peach-gold-lavender,

bathing everything in a god-glow.

I find myself standing at an open meadow

I have never really seen, that I drive by

every day when I drop off the kids.

To my joy I see a small rabbit,

then two! They are pure delight!

I start to laugh, my heart releases

her knot, untying old snarls.

Finally I can breathe fully.

I walk home.

I walk in the light for tiny golden rabbits.

I walk in the light for children waking.

I walk in the light because I can.

I walk in the light for the good earth.

I walk in the light….for my family….

Words fall out of my mouth in a chant.

I put the kettle on.

The dog smells my cold bare feet,

my damp pant legs.

He wonders where I have been.

I hear my family stirring.

The children are watching TV.

My husband enters the kitchen

“You certainly are up early.

I didn’t hear you get out of bed.”

I don’t bother to tell him

I never came to bed.

I don’t bother to blame him

for not noticing.

Instead I kiss him and smile.

He hugs me,

pausing to smell my hair.

He lets the dog out.

He stands at the sink

watching the dog in the yard.

I look out just as our dog

finds my socks

drying in the morning sun

on our white picket fence.

They are my Frida Kahlo socks –

no mistaking, they are mine, and he knows it.

He turns to me with a question on his face,

looking at my bare feet on the linoleum.

“Sit with me? Don’t rush off

to watch the news.

We have nowhere

to go today…” I say handing him his coffee,

trying not to beg, but I need him.

The dog drops Frida socks at my feet.

The sound, ‘Splat!’ makes us both laugh.

The dog is the only one who knows

all the family secrets.

I remember Frida and all her pain,

and she inspires me to love.

I smile a new smile,

one I have been earning all my life.

He sits down. I sit down.

Over his shoulder I see the sign

written in the glass:

THIS IS IT!

“I love you,” I say, reaching for his hands.

“I love you too,” he replies, reaching back,

looking confused and curious.

My feet are cold and numb.

My hands and heart are warm.

I lost the Muse last night

but I found me.

I can’t tell him this, but I can

offer the me I found

to him.

And I do.

~ Shiloh Sophia

The Muse at the Back Door Series 2020

(fiction yet inspired by my life and lives of those I love)

Red Thread Letter #799 from Shiloh Sophia : This is It

Dear One,

I have been sitting with the storm since 4am. Listening. Seeing into the dark. Day 16 at home. Crying tears for the increase in domestic violence from February to March. Knowing this would happen. Sending powerful waves of love and gratitude to the great helpers of this cycle. Helping friends through crisis, even if from afar. Wiping down groceries. Staying apart from everyone but my love, Jonathan. Enjoying every minute I can. Resting often in between working hard to serve my community.

Yesterday I had the gift of offering one of my core teachings to a group of women, and a few men – over 1500 people registered to learn more about resiliency through creativity. I shared all that I could in two hours. What remains for me is this : When I create I feel joy. That simple, that profound. Bring it.

This morning, as the pain felt like it was reaching a tipping point – I took it to the journal. The Muse at the Back Door, my 2020 series of fictional stories was there to greet me. I sat in the dark and wrote down what I saw. Now I am sharing it with you – just a little break in pattern from the news….and the blues… to the Muse.

This is it. This is our time to wake up to love. I am here to do this with you.

~ Shiloh Sophia

UPCOMING VIRTUAL EVENTS

Join me for a free community zoom call tomorrow? Let’s LIBERATE ourselves and release false burdens about how things ‘should’ be right now through Intentional Creativity process and sisterhood.

Applications due tomorrow at midnight for Red Thread Guide Online Certification Training to receive $100 application fee waiver. Apply and receive a free coaching and interview call with Color of Woman lead coach, Mary MacDonald.
Medicine painting has just begun and you can jump on in and join us! APOTHECARYhappens online once a year and you receive immediate access to begin painting + 4 weeks support and calls with me, Jonathan and our team.

Doors for the Red Madonna 2020 sisterhood close on the full moon, April 8, for our 13 moon journey into Psalms for Creation. Perfect for those called to the arms of Mother Mary and a practice of faith during these times.