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The difference

She lives on the top of a mountain.

“I look down on everyone from here.”

I know she is referring to the geographical sense because she is not the type of person to judge or self appreciate too much.

Her house contains no television, few appliances and plenty of the magical stuff.

There are tables holding crystals and stones and gems of yesterdays.

Outside, on the wooden balcony, swings a heavy and expensive wind chime, designed from Aluminium. The tune is sweet, hypnotic and entrancing.

She is a healer.

A truly special soul, swimming within the body of a woman much younger than her years.

She is visually beautiful.

When I walked into her home, I felt the difference.

“I feel like I’ve walked into a church.”

I’m not fond of religious sects and congregations but I love to wander through a cathedral. The art work is usually sublime. I appreciate the energy within a church and I love enveloping myself in the light shining through stained glass windows.

Her house is a temple.

She tells me that her life is simple. She heals people and swims in the creek.

She makes a difference.

I swam in that same creek yesterday under the tropical fall of rain and I felt it; the difference was there too.

There is something about these hills, this forest and the people who reside within it. Most of them are recluse and either searching or leaving, staying or going. One day.

I consider whether I could live within this magical radius and I know that for now the answer is no. I catch glimpses of my future and I see myself returning.

I will wander along shorelines and return to the hill to sit in a large swinging chair underneath trees of centuries old and I will play an instrument some days and forget things on other days.

I might wear cheesecloth wide legged trousers, with jewellery around my ankles and wrists. I will wear the toe ring I purchased and I will let my hair fall free for the wind.

I might ink my skin with something symbolic and I will definately write stories about the hills and the secrets and the tourists who pretend to understand it all.

There is a small table on the balcony facing south and upon it sits the largest most beautiful white crystal rock I have seen. I don’t touch it but I sit on the stool placed in front of it and I look out toward the sea in the distance. I immediately understand that if I look through the crystal I will see the ocean. I know she meditates here.

Above me, the hypnotic wind chime sings again and I am reminded of monks and all things controlled.

The wind picks up and blows my brunette hair back from my face and I close my eyes and see the things behind my own crystal lids. These are the things that matter to me.

This is my difference.

© ryan

The difference

PJ Ryan

Melbourne, Australia

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 14

Artist's Description

Thanks to the ‘touched by fire’ group for their feature of this piece.

Artwork Comments

  • pagan
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