Aemira


the energy ran through the body, coursing up and down leaving her restless and with an itch for what she could not know. the grass on her back, the sun on her face, filled her with light but left her unable to stay still. movement begged inside of her.

in a moment, the desire to embrace a tree took hold and as she put this thought to word, her mind asked…but to which tree? and as her head moved to the left and to the right, it was directly in front of her. a tree with arms out and bare, asking to be hugged.

she moved as if to the volition of the earth and found herself standing at the base of a being who was weary. her eyes found deep scars on arms that aimed for the sky. putting her hand over the wound, the pain of the tree was her’s to feel, to understand, and in return, her body shed the tears that had remained unspilled inside split wood for too many years.

i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, her soul repeated as her eyes wept and her liquid hurt was lost in soil above roots so weak. in the midst of the pains, the aches, and the heaviness of such a long life, a small voice spoke back to her.

it’s not your fault. it’s not your fault.

but at this point, finding responsibility would serve no purpose. no. this was the time for action. with the currents still moving in waves up and down her body, she crouched to the ground, her feet to the roots, her hands to the base, and with all the flow inside of her she allowed mother earth to drink from her skin, to recycle the energy from hand to tree, feet to earth.

in small undulations the tree drew breath. in steady sips and then larger gulps, it quenched a thirst acquired over lifetimes. it drank and felt the intention for life. it grew stronger and knew that love had cured and revived. the two beings, tree and woman, said nothing else. for the time being, simply the understanding sufficed.

days later and separated from the land of dhamma, would you check on the tree? she asked her Other and he was happy to oblige. your tree is great, he told her, instantly felt strong metta when I touched it. it showed me an image of you as a baby cheetah. it also told me to tell you that you can access it’s energy any time you want to connect with it from anywhere…just imagine yourself in front of it hugging it again and the tree will lend you energetic support.

and so she did. she closed her eyes and saw the tree again, still bare, but more refreshed. in her mind’s eye she wrapped her arms around it, and it hugged her back. it’s nice to see you her mind said, what’s your name? and the tree answered, Martha.

Martha? That’s your name? she asked unsure of what names trees would hold. the voice spoke again. she thought she heard a whisper of Mira, then Eimira, and then at least, the true name Aemira. I am Aemira.

Aemira. It’s nice to meet you Aemira.

with the portal to trees opened, she took to the forest to commune with others. keeping the image of Aemira close, she spoke to other majestic beings of bark and leaves and in doing so, she learned of their pains. with what flow still carried through her, she asked for their wants and gave what she was able to help them fulfill their purpose and desire. later, a message arrived, tell her, this tree is missing her. Aemira had found other ears to listen and another way to reach out.

when still learning to learn about the connectivity of everything, her lesson included darkness seeping in. the darkness was clever and silent, cunning in not giving anything away but brutal in taking away all light. all possibility for life. it knew how to amplify and to diminish the highest self. it knew where to hide so one would all too easily forget the light.

she found herself succumbing to the density of the dark and she knew not to feed the darkness with fear. instead, she turned to light, to love, and to her Other. she bath under cold water, and she stood barefoot to allow the ground to enable her to stay upright. but the darkness was such that even mother earth could not coax all of it down into her depths. her Other sent what love he could, but even then he knew it fitting to reach out to the archangels and under the protection of swords and blue flames the darkness slowly relinquished it’s hold on her.

with many battles fought for her, she woke the next day to know the war was still not won. that any darkness could grow to all darkness and that for darkness to diminish, it only need be turned into light.

in a final attempt to shake off the last vestige of darkness that lingered, she called to her tree of awakening. with her feet to the ground, her hands on a guava tree, she reached to Aemira and asked for help. together they passed the darkness from her, to the guavas, to Aemira who then released the suffering out across the water, up into the mountains, and above and beyond into the light.

we did it! she said, but Aemira said nothing. and in this way, perhaps, the journey began. for these two sprits to align across life forms, for a greater work to be done. for human to connect with nature, and for the final war to be won. they set themselves for this task, to be warriors of the light, to fight the raging storm, to know the victory can only come when all of darkness submits to the life of light.

it has begun.

it can be. it already is. it will be. it is already done.

 

 

 

 

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