Once shiny 

 

Maybe 15 years ago, a Lizard with glittering stones was gifted to me by a friend visiting my garden. Many times, Lizard has been knocked off the deck’s railing by the squirrels. Now Lizard is resting and sun bathing on the small wooden bench at my Kassandra cottage. Its tail and both hind feet got broken over the years. Lizard keeps surviving, regrowing its tail, blending evermore so into Karinaland.  

happy Lizard dreaming 

 

Over the years, losing its shine and jewels, Lizard has gained in other ways. Grown over with lichen, it becomes most interesting and unique – beautiful. More hawks around, less squirrels and their mischief, hotter burning sun and ferocious winter rains, penetrating summer fog and the invisible crawl of time, all are allowing Lizard to make itself truly at home in Karinaland. Once sparkling, it is now camouflaged, unseen by birds of prey. 

 

Kassandra cottage 

 

Gazing at Lizard adoringly, I experience a form of elation. What is it? I ponder. Then I remember: throughout my life, I keep experiencing it with certain old people. In advanced age, a naturally translucent glow manifests sometimes, it is subtle. In my childhood and youth, I secretly seek out this kind of glow or beauty; I am hungry for it. In hidden corners and unspectacular settings, I keep finding it. Unforgettable. The paralyzed old woman my grandma is caring for. From her bed, pale faced, but with curious eyes, she shows kind interest, asking me questions. I am 8 years old. The heavily limping, long-haired woman – deformed by polio – on crutches, next to her robust old mother. Both smiling, offering raspberries from their garden next door.  On my way to school, through an open window, glimpsing the wild-haired concert pianist, hunched over his grand piano. I stop and linger whenever he’s practicing, even if I might be late to class. The music is flowing and rippling into the courtyard, then bursting, ripping the morning sky open. Flashes of true life, seared into my skin.

At all stages, I am drawn to that precious, ethereal radiance. Always, I seem blessed with mentors and teachers decades my senior, from various walks of life. I am enamored by their quiet mastery and luminescence. Befriending them, I drink in their qualities. Most are gone by now. Hildegard, Herta, Hella, Harry, Hansel, Henny, Zaroohe, Richard…. (About some of them more in the future.) Being in their presence – even now, when their generously wrinkled faces appear in my memories – a certain ecstatic feeling is welling up in me. Suddenly the world is full, rich, and a safe place to be. Everything is alive, makes sense, and starts speaking to me. The language of poignant beauty. Presence of grace, essence. Here I feel at ease, connected, and ready for the illuminating touch of the gods, demons, fierce angels, and unknown worlds. 

 Lizard is nodding, dozing off into dreams drunken with beauty and forgotten treasures…