Broken Frame

Four weeks ago, it falls and breaks into several separate pieces, making me shutter. My sweater’s sleeve brushing up against it – only very lightly. Out of the blue, it crashes onto the brick floor below. Clearly the “harlequin” wanted to speak up, was ready to shatter its shape.  Well, “it” happens to be the unique sculpted ceramic frame my Mama created decades ago. I asked her to let me have it, brought it with me after her death, and it’s since been displayed in my “living room museum.” To my surprise the separate pieces are intact. After the pang of pain subsides, it takes a while to fit them into the original rectangle shape. An intriguing puzzle.

Mesmerized by the glazed morsels, I get lost in re-arranging them in fluctuating patterns. Something in me resists gluing the colorful chunks right away back together. Playing is more fun. Broken, and yet one. Separate, yet together. A metamorphosing frame, with its Gestalt of invisible wholeness.

This episode leads me to contemplate the abrupt turns, losses, and interruptions in my life. All necessary, to break me open and let spirit talk to me, guide me. The puzzle pieces of family on three continents – Germany, Brazil, America – with three languages, cultures, histories. My own countless collaborations, art projects, mentors, supporters, audiences, neighbors, students, strangers. Travels, studies, and touring, as well as later dedication to place, trees, and land. Change. Veränderung. Constant. Along the way, several chosen families, partnerships, circles, communities. As well as profound losses. The deaths of more than five dozen beloved students, colleagues, friends, partners, family members. Being changed. Wandel. So wandeln wir durch unser Leben. We pilgrimage. So many loved ones gone – me still here. Content, exuberant, curious, and alone. When will be my time? What do I still have to fulfill? To give, to experience? Soon seventy-three. My far-away brother Matthias reminds me that in Rudolph Steiner’s Anthroposophy, 72 years are ein Weltentag. One day, in “world” time. I’ll be one day old. Einen Tag alt – so jung. Der Rahmen gesprengt – new insights.

Die Welt fließt über. Das Herz fließt über…. Hardly ever do I eat out, but to celebrate election week, I splurge on a pulled pork sandwich at the outdoor beer garden. On this dark Friday evening, the place is crowded with families, plenty of young kids swirling around, everyone conversing and feasting. Enchanted, I sit on a narrow stone slab across from two families with four young gangly girls jostling. The mother asks if I want to sit on their side, I shake my head, smiling, no need. Then, suddenly one of the young creatures moves closer, gazing intently at me. Out of the blue she declares: “You look so soft.”  I am not sure I heard right and lean closer, she does too. With her beautiful round face framed by brown curls, now inches from me, she repeats dreamily: “You look so soft.” Her big eyes full of wonder locking with mine. “Soft,” I murmur, bathing in our intimate aura. Oneness. How does she know? And then speak out…? No barrier. For precious moments the noisy world is standing still. Softness engulfs us – awe. Wie wundersam and wonderful to be met, to be seen, recognize each other. She perceives directly and voices accurately, my Gestalt, movement, energy.  We meet. No filters. Only the very young and very old can do that. All the way home, I am blissed out. This is how cosmic energy breaks rules, distances, certainty, barriers, makes room for unpredictable realities, new possibilities….

Der Rahmen ist gesprengt, und ich will ihn jetzt noch nicht zusammenkleben – komisch – will nicht sicher sein… Vielleicht niemals. Vieilleicht ist alles ganz mit seinen Unterbrechungen, Brüchen, Öffnungen. The frame is blown, split open – space expanded. Things are flowing. I don’t want to glue it together yet. Perhaps never. Perhaps everything is whole, even with its interruptions, ruptures, brokenness. Openness.

Das Zersplitterte, Zerbrochene. Dreams shattered, frames broken. Destiny – tears and gold dust everywhere, riches hidden deep inside. All belongs to the great arc of life, and history. The circle. Listen. The bigger sphere, the strangers, the little girl and me: belonging. The generations behind us and the ones before us. Listen. This week, stunning messages from the center of this country, from the South and Heartland. Openings. Healing possibilities, and setting things right. Naming what is. Moves us. Wakes us up. We the people. Steadfast change. Oh, how it shapes us in body, heart, and spirit. If we allow it. Listen. Participate. Later, the night sky arches its mighty wings: myriads of stars, black holes, spiral galaxies and nebulas, ancient shifting constellations…

The heart flows over

with gratitude

softness