Monday, 22 August 2016

The Writing In A Woman's Voice tapestry continues with a thread of lovely colors: The Transcendental Mother by Marie Lynam Fitzpatrick



The Transcendental Mother by Marie Lynam Fitzpatrick

The colours changed with the beat of her life.  Feelings of being: Control, no control.
Happy, sad, contented, alive, dead. They marked her life as  she watched her family  and searched for meanings.

 Her kids were born; 
she wondered about their lives. Did they choose her or she them, will they all receive answers or is this  it!  will they just die and be buried.
Is it enough to live a good life? Is it enough to follow her heart, and is her personal god all forgiving?
She meditates daily.  Settling herself in an armchair she allows  the energy to flow through her bones: relaxing and caressing. And as it drifts she melts, and like a child she trusts in its strength.

The Violet is attached to her sacredness
  and the Indigo it allows her spiritual essence to drift through.  Always just a glimpse offered--they guard their secrets, well. 
The cold clarity of Blue encircles her speech, each word is vibrant, each syllable crazy for a reason. Her words: they claim her.
The Green of her heart, her guide, her sense of union, her wish for happiness. It whispers and she listens; its beat spins each emotion.
The Yellow of her gut is sometimes in her boots as she puts  her foot in it one more time and it shakes her foundations--a reminder of her fears, inhibitions and quiver moments.
The Red of her sexuality, its heat calls her to question all else as the colours mesh expressing her life, concocting her reality.
But her emotions figure-out their shade as a palette of black and white lightens and darkens their chemistry. She feels this happening and now and again her body demands release from its labels. She wonders then if she's a robot made by a dark god for his enjoyment.  Has she becomes a game on a play-station and if the script is written, does she have the lead role? Her ego peeps through.
So she meditates and prays mantras, and makes wishes, and sometimes her reality reflects a  mind set. Then she rides the curve of a rainbow and swings on a star in awe of her personal constellations as they dive and splutter-surface a deep breath and  a new path is started, a personal decision made and her ambiguity settled as her now passes through times-space.