The Entering

The Opening

Dressing myself for the opening 

Dressing myself for the opening. There's nothing left to do except show up. The images have been made, printed and hung. The ads have been placed, invitations have gone out.

No turning back Katya. I don't want Margaret to be disappointed or feel that she's wasted her time and money on me or my work. She keeps telling me that my work is important. That I have something to share. That people will resonate with these pictures, maybe for some, even change their lives.

This seems outside the sphere of what I can find attainable or possible but, now that I know about my "other lives", that they exist, are happening even as I have these present thoughts, why couldn't it also be possible that, well, anything can happen?

I decided to wear a black lace dress over black tights with my black worn toed leather boots. I haven't told Margaret, but I've dyed my hair blonde. I've wanted to for ages.

Ages. 
Down through the ages. 
What is your age? Still unsure what the age position for someone like me is.

I'm twenty seven. I've aged so far. 
But, now what? 
Now that everything, in comparison to before, everything is being revealed to me. My lives. There are choices now that I never knew existed. 
Up until now.

Until now.

Now.

Bella wags her tail. She needs a walk, as do I. Twelve o'clock. The opening is at four. Grab Bella's leash, my jacket. We take the steps, four flights down. Amir is at the door, smile at the ready.

"Wow", when he sees my hair. 
"You like?"

"I like." 
Smiles back. Bends down gives a scratch to Bella's ears. Very warm.

Sun shining bright and warm on my face. My hands. Everything is sparkling.

Sparkling white and golden. Bella is hopping, so happy.

As if I have been given an answer that I've searched for, forever. 
Isn't that the truth? Haven't I, for many years, been looking, searching, asking, wondering, inside and outside, verbally and through my heart?

Quiet. 


A feeling, oh I know this feeling.

What? 


We are walking the path, following the lake, walking north this time instead of south.

A park bench. A woman. We get closer, Bella is wagging her tail furiously. We get closer.

The woman, sitting, dressed in maroon robes, a short waisted coat, a wool cap covers her head.

Khandro?

"Is it you?! 
More strangeness and yet absolutely familiar.

She is smiling the largest smile I have ever seen, by anyone.

"Well?", she asks, with a shy grin/smile/knowing.

"It is beautiful here Katya. The lake reminds of the St. Lawrence."

"Wait, Khandro, I'm not ready to just walk into a normal conversation with you.

I have questions, you know, the usual. What and how and why are you here, for starters."

Nothing stirs her steadfast groundedness, her absolute resolve of this being the only present moment, now this moment, and now this moment.

"I wanted to see your exhibit, your show? At the gallery. It's alright if I came, isn't it?

This is all very simple really. I wanted to see you, thought you might need my help.

And, here I showed up. Close to your house?"