Worlds Colliding

the arithmetics of mass and spirit

it was my letting go that gave me a better hold

― Chris Matakas

Raven

It's a calm, early Sunday afternoon, the heat slowly growing with each hour, a slight breeze stirring the air and causing a few mischievous strands of hair to shift and tickle her face and neck, while the rest of it is pinned up, in a messy bun on top of her head. She's sitting in the back garden on the luscious green grass with her legs crossed, palms of her hands lifted up and resting on the knees, eyes closed, and with a small pillow strategically placed beneath her. No point in suffering for the spiritual side of it - she thinks, eyelids shutting tighter in concentration as she tries to meditate, the body loudly protesting against her lousy attempts at a lotus flower position. Her breathing is still uneven, energy flickering from side to side as she imagines the perfect state of nirvana, willing it to somehow, rush the peaceful heavenly calm her way. Pronto. Hmm, though she wasn't getting much results so far, almost two hours in this position, and all that she had accomplished were a slight backache, tensed shoulders, sweat soaking the few skimpy clothes she had on, and multiple bites from every buzzing life form with or without wings. Yeah, they all loved her equally.

So, do you hear that, world?

Are you listening carefully enough?

Once again, a full "victory" in my pathetic, miserable existence. She groans, attempting to, no matter what, stay positive like she promised Mel and to trust the process. Well, it sure wasn't trust yet, that was certain, but at least she was making an effort and giving her best. Sometimes it was all you could do before anything could change for the better. Trust the process. She inhales deeper and forces herself not to groan again as she feels another tiny bite on her body, this time on her ass. Of course.

It's her usual time off since the restaurant was usually closed on Sundays, with a few exceptions such as wedding receptions, kids' birthday parties, charity events, and so on. Whenever that happened everyone's day off would automatically shift to Monday. Mel was a considerate boss and never forced her employees to work the entire week, plus making sure the shifts would have elastic hours if necessary, knowing that rest was just as important in life as some good old-fashioned hard labor. And that was just one of her great traits on a very long list, so it wasn't exactly a shock how much she looked up to that woman and always silently looked for her guidance and a caring shoulder to cry on. She sighs again. It would have been nice to actually have some blood-related siblings like that, and not to always depend mostly on herself. Because as much as she enjoyed her independence and the stubborn, strong character that she was born with, she still yearned for someone to share the worries and troubles of the day.

Strange, even though she was an only child, somehow she always felt as if she should have been a part of some big family. As if someone made a mistake and sent her into the wrong life. Wrong time, wrong people, wrong energy. Energy? She wonders. Why did she suddenly come up with that last one? Okay, it was official then. Her state was getting worse, and Mel's spiritual crap was messing with her mind. She didn't need all that nonsense. Soul awakening, please. Spare me. She thinks but then stops herself, flinching just a bit, guilt spreading in her with the speed of light. That wasn't fair. Her friend was doing the best that she possibly could for her, giving the time, knowledge, and limitless amounts of care and kindness. It wasn't Mel's fault that she was such a screw-up, and everything she touched somehow eventually ended in disasters.