Us is marvelous. We are the best. The ones that can be anything we choose. Us is miraculous which doesn’t mean we perform miracles although that might be the case. You decide. Miracles are such that they go beyond human or natural powers. Not really sure what that means e-x-a-c-t-l-y, but I can guess.
Let me have a try. Being attached to this earth, I suppose I can be classed as human. I have a body, mobility which when you really think about it—in and of itself—is miraculous. It just happens. That autonomic nervous system is something else. It just runs without me doing something or anything at all. I can’t believe it sometimes. It is only when something is out of whack I actually even recognize it.
Beyond that it simply hums along—not me e-x-a-c-t-l-y—but my body sings its own tune. I hear it sometimes gurgle and burp, whine and squeal. It makes me laugh at times in the most unexpected places.
One time I was in line going into a squall-athon, and my body kicks in making uncontrollable noises. I was going to hear the Screechers-of Thor bellow like horrendous dragons, then my body starts to play. It’s a slow rumble at first, then—excuse the expression—all hell breaks loose.
It rumbles, it squeaks, then it plays some string instrument that I’ve only imagined, and it bleats and moans moving towards some crescendo of such cacophonous mass. It is simply a body of coherent matter, of indefinite shape, and turns into a considerable size as it moves towards the spectacular.
This is extraordinary. A singular event in the physical world of us. It surpasses all known human or natural powers. It is ascribed to a supernatural cause, and all I do is stand in line. It is magical, without the stardust. I turn invisible. The ground opens up, and swallows me whole. I am gone. It is a wonder, a marvel. It is a surpassing example of quality. Unnamed. An indefinite shape or quantity, an incoherent mass of particles that forms one body, and makes music. Automatically.
I am an aggregate of the whole. I am a collection. An accumulated mass of sound. I have no reason to go and hear the Screechers-of Thor. I am my most magical self, a symphony of sound. I listen in my invisibility, and become enchanted. I have become a great mass of strength, and sound. I am One; alone in us, and yet part of the whole. One big, humongous autonomic nervous system—us. Ingenuous.
Us is marvelous. We are the best. The ones that can be anything we choose. Us is miraculous which doesn’t mean we perform miracles, although that might be the case. You decide. Let me know when you have it figured out. I really want to hear what you have to say, telepathically speaking.
Writing Practice: I’ve been reading—Writing for Your Life (a guide and companion to the inner worlds) by Deena Metzger and she sites Brenda Peterson who wrote River of Light (p.112) in her book. When Brenda was asked during an interview how she got her voice for her novel she said “We borrow voice and we don’t have to get self-conscious about it, because it is there for us to use. The voice comes through us to heal the others, and it heals us in the telling.”
Recently I came across Us is marvelous from some writing I did a year or so ago. I remember I heard this very clear voice telling a story and I was compelled to write it down. In hindsight it was a telling of the marvel of our autonomic nervous system. For this month’s writing practice listen for a voice, tell a story from inside out about your body, health and wellness. Write for 10-15 minutes in your journal without stopping. Tuck it away and when you’re ready, read it. PLAY a little; in-joy!