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For a whole host of reasons these days feel a little dark and foreboding — just like it is when a hurricane is ready to make landfall.
Who doesn’t feel a little:
- exposed
- vulnerable
- endangered
- unsafe
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We need to remind each other these days are not all that much different from times past; the very act of living is risky business and people have generally felt:
- exposed
- vulnerable
- endangered
- unsafe
We human beings have always needed to find protection from a dangerous world, even if that protection is only in our imaginations.
We need safe places.
Marsha described to me one of her earliest safe places — an enclosed garden sequestered away in her Grandma Nell’s backyard.
Where she found safety for her body, mind and spirit.
Where was (is) your safe place?
That happy place to which you can retreat and allow your outer self and inner self a little time to play together?
Where you can:
- remove your armor
- lighten your load
- breathe freely
An early safe place of mine was the ravine behind our home. Whenever I felt beaten down or pushed to my limits I’d visit the ravine.
There was an old tree at the bottom, called Old Woody, that was the perfect place to sit and allow Mother Nature wrap her arms around me and nurse my wounds.
It was the one place outside Pat and inside Pat could blend together into one person.
In my mind I’ve visited the ravine many times in search of refuge from a world:
- unrelentingly seeking to bend me into a shape that’s not me
- forever forging me into an identity I don’t want
- reminding me of the many ways I’ve failed in life
It seemed to me I was born into a crowd and raised on a stage with a part in a drama for which I felt ill-suited. My outside self was more the creation of those around me and my inside self was largely an invention of my own imagination.
My safe place gave me permission to BE my imagination and protected me from those who would do me harm.
My safe place is where the best versions of me lived, where young Pat and wise Pat could:
- talk together
- play together
- hang together
The ability to return to this safe place has been one of the saving graces of my life.
My safe place is where I’d often return to in my dreams.
Not long ago I awoke from such a dream.
I got up and brewed some extra strong coffee, sat down on my easy chair, closed my eyes and tried to return to my exquisite dream state.
Then a picture came into my mind of this familiar place with two lone figures standing way off in the distant forest.
I took another deep breath, rocked my head back, and watched the scene evolve. I ambled out into the ravine in search of the identities of the two people.
It was hard to see, looking through the overgrowth.
I was able to make out one larger and one smaller figure. When I got closer I could see they were both…me.
8-year-old Pat
75-year-old Pat
Old man Pat was out for a peaceful walk in the ravine with little boy Pat. What they were saying I couldn’t tell, but what I knew for certain:
All was well — All was good.
Dreams
There’s a place where I go that no one else knows,
Where mysteries abound and excitement grows.
A place out of reach of any man’s hands,
Safely secluded in a far away land,
Beyond the grasp of those who may plunder
The wealth of its power and its life changing wonder.
I go alone to my secret place, never leaving a trace
For someone to follow and discover my space
Where I keep my secrets, my fears, and my regrets
Away from the world and all of its threats.
It’s mine and mine alone!
The only place I can call my own.
I treasure the moments spent in this realm
Where anything is possible and I’m at the helm.
This place I describe is all that it seems …
It’s a magical place I call my dreams.
~ John Raines
Just a thought…
Pat
Copyright © 2024 Patrick J. Moriarty. All Rights Reserved.