I Will Just Sing

Six years now, Ma.
It has been six years since I heard my mother’s voice.

Her laughter still echoes in my mind.
Her smile still brightly shining in my memory.

It is true, we do not remember the conversations.
We do not forget their voices, though.

Time continues to pass along.
She continues to be gone.

My grandmother’s house, a memory.
Her front steps changed after the new owner took over.

They are not the same front steps that I know.
The fine line of time dissolves over the years.

Was it six months or seven between Mom and Grandpa dying?
It does not matter, they remain gone.

I write too long-winded, they say.
They are my guides.

They used to be here, physically.
They are still here, energetically.

The day that I chose to die, I did not die.
My mother saved my life.

She showed me that we are energy.
It is too hard to explain.

I continued along my career path.
I wanted to make her proud.

It was very hard.
At first, I did not know what to do.

Mom showed me third-eye sight.
It helped me to learn my trade.

I could picture what fastener sizes looked like.
I pulled photographs from my mind like it were magic.

People could not understand my newfound intellect.
I was no longer afraid.

My doctor was hesitant.
She did not understand why I did not want medication.

I told her it was because I know better.
I told her it was because they hurt my brain.

She was relived that I did not want to die anymore.
During university I was medicated.

Full of anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medication.
I was a zombie.

I had seizures when I tried to wean off them.
I did not want to experience that again.

I did not want to be numb again.
Some days I think of when Mom was here.

When she held my hand in the grocery store.
One day I asked her if I was too old for that.

She said I will never be too old for that.
I wish I could hold her hand still.

The biggest myth about healing is that it stops hurting.
It never stops hurting.

The grief nor the longing.
The unsatisfactory memories when you just want them to be here, now.

But you know differently.
You understand that time is an illusion.

The time passes for me, but it does not for her.
That makes this experience more bearable.

It gives me purpose and drive to keep going.
I know that we will not be apart forever.

We were never truly apart.
I have a daughter now.

My career in steel manufacturing is thriving.
The world is experiencing a pandemic.

Everyone is losing their shit.
I am sitting here, unfazed, writing.

Because I know better.
Because I know it is an illusion.

Because I know it will get better.
Life is so simple.

Yet life is so complex.
It is too hard to explain.

I cannot adequately explain.
There is literature for that.

I am but a catalyst for your inquisition.
Perhaps you will leave here wondering.

That wonder will lead you to explore.
That exploration will lead you to know.

That knowing will mean I have done something right.
I will always try my best to write.

This will be the way, my guides say.
Some strangers scoff at my social media photos.

They think that I am a fool.
They misunderstand my abstract art.

They take me too seriously.
They do not know that I can use those tools.

They are the fools.

I wake up each morning in awe.
I am still alive.

I am still breathing.
Mom is still here.

Grandpa is still here.
Moo-Moo is still here.

Aunt Sandra is still here.
Maurice is still here.

My cats are still here.
They do not really go anywhere.

They become what we are.
We are energy.

We are wrapped up in a body.
Our bodies are the vehicle.

Ego and spirit will fight for the wheel.
Who is driving your vehicle?

If it is ego, good luck with that.
If it is higher self, thank you for evolving.

I cannot tell you how.
You must find out how.

It will change your life.
Nothing will matter when this matters.

Materialism will fade.
You will not care about your aging skin.

Your aging skin becomes proof of life.
My wrinkles remind me of my smile.

When I smile, my cheeks crease.
When I smile, my eyes wrinkle.

These marks are slowly becoming permanent.
I do not wish to erase them.

They are proof that I did not give up.
My lips are not filled with injections.

They were not carefully curated for me by a nurse.
They were carefully curated for me by my mother and father.

That is good enough.
We will all die.

Our bodies will decay.
Our energy does not die.

We accumulate energy via frequencies.
Raising your vibration is to acquire higher frequency.

When you do it right, you will know.
Good things will happen.

Bad things will still happen.
But you know why and they hurt less.

They still hurt.
They just hurt less.

They have reason behind them.
The anger disappears.

Understanding takes its place.
When I first became an apprentice, I was green.

I did not know the difference between nut and bolt.
Now, I am seasoned.

We all have to start somewhere.
You cannot win if you do not try.

I keep failing.
But I keep trying.

No one really knows what they are doing.
If they tell you that they do, they are lying.

Tomorrow is the most wonderful mystery.
If you do it today, you will thank yourself tomorrow.

We all have to start somewhere.
I still worry about war.

I still worry about my fate.
But I trust that it will work out.

Each morning the birds still sing outside my window.
They do not think of war.

They do not worry about their fate.
They just want to sing.

I will be more like the birds.
I will worry less about war.

I will worry less about my fate.
I will just sing.

Kaila A. Notto

Copyright © The Mindful Millwright 2020. All Rights Reserved.


Published by The Mindful Millwright

Kaila A. Notto

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