To touch is to give life.
We met with the intention of healing the other.
After the warmth of the candlelight and the warmth of the touch.
I awoke with my heart beating in the palms of my hands.
With every part of my body that had touched his vibrating with life.
My body coming back to life after a long hibernation.
I like your hair, he said.
It looks like yours, I said, smiling at him.
You’re right! he laughed at himself, smiling back at me.
You know, I said. I have your initial tattooed on my back. For my friend, Ramón. Ramón Lopez, whose death inspired me to leave my marriage of sensory deprivation. To do the unthinkable and rip my life apart. To make myself vulnerable enough to find joy. And, if I’m lucky, to find real love, too.
He was stunned for a moment.
That’s my name, too, he responded, to both our amazement. My given name ...
The scent of frankincense filled my room.
I awoke in the middle of the night after my healing, breathing so smoothly, so deeply.
I awoke and began giggling.
That’s some powerful medicine you deliver, my friend! I teased him later.
That healing was the stuff of magic, he agreed.
And then it was time to say goodbye …
I walked in the still of the redwood forest.
I whispered my dreams into the bark of the trees.
I came upon a large stone, before which fragrant pink rose petals were strewn.
Evoking the story of Juan Diego and The Virgin of Guadalupe.
I felt the silkiness of the rose petals between my fingers and put two rose petals in my pocket.
On the night he had become Christ.
So an appearance now by La Virgen in the coolness of the forest felt perfectly natural.
A few feet further on the redwood floor, a wooden magic wand appeared from the trees.
First one, and then another.
The rose petals, the magic wands, they felt like thank you gifts.
And then, there it was.
The gift unmistakably meant for me.
The small stuffed bunny on the floor of the redwoods.
I laughed, and put the stuffed bunny in my pocket to add to my bunny collection.
De nada, mi amor, I whispered.
And then I returned to the trees …
“Dearest Lara,” wrote the wise woman, Debra Liberman. “The Sequoia is a sacred sentinel who guards the magical realm where old souls dwell within its growth rings, and spill secrets that seep into the forest floor … their stories reside under her magnificent canopy, illuminated by the warmth of the spectrum’s glorious array … angelic messengers have summoned you to bear witness as they lift her veil to reveal the answers you seek … share these seeds of discovery so others may embrace hope’s light.”
The light in me honors and adores the light in you.
The light in me sees and blesses the light in you.
Namaste, mi amor.