I had a dream this morning and I'm going to do my best to tell the story of why I woke up crying. In the dream I am wandering thru an open air market, perhaps a farmers market or something where people sell homemade crafts and jewelry. I gaze from one side to the other as I walk thru the long corridor of shops, making my way to a specific table where I picked up a ceramic art piece. The second I touched it I felt connected to it, as if this was the thing that I'd been waiting for... as if this one flat piece of art was the culmination of my entire life.
I held it in my hands tightly, so as not to drop it. My eyes flitting from one side to the other as I took in all the aspects of it. Across the top was my family name, in very ornate characters that somehow meant more symbolically than the word itself. In the center was a small image. A drawing of some sort that wasn't my family, but represented us. Generations of immigrants and farmers, shop owners and home-makers. Somehow that drawing encapsulated all the important aspects of our heritage. Surrounding the center were beautiful trees and mountains. A scene that just lit my heart and somehow made me feel more grounded than I had ever been. A scene that escapes words, something so precise that it felt like my ancestral home. I just knew it was special and magical, I could feel a thousand heartbeats in a single second. Pounding. Surrounding me. Everything else faded away and for several long minutes, it was just me, and the all-encompassing rhythm of those heartbeats. The community and solitude, passion and fear, struggles and triumphs.
I stood still, embracing the feeling and clinging to this ceramic art as if it was more than that, because in that moment it meant everything. Hundreds of lives that all culminated in me being on this planet. Thousands of struggles that made it possible for me to live this life. Millions of memories and pivotal moments in time that gave way to my parents and eventually to me. I let that all soak in, embracing every heartbeat, feeling every sadness and elating with every dream. I rode that rollercoaster for as long as it needed me to and at the end I knew that I had to put this back. I had to leave this for someone else to experience it. I had to set it on the table, and I did just that. I put it down, looked at it for several more seconds then turned and walked away. Fighting back tears as I put one foot in front of the other. Second-guessing my decision with every step. It was too important to leave, and yet, at the same time, it was not mine. There was someone else who needed that experience. Someone else needed that connection, and I would leave it for them.
I walked to the edge of the shopping area, not noticing a single other thing as I did. My eyes welled with tears but I was not giving into them. I sat. Alone. Alone with my thoughts on a cold uncomfortable bench. I sat. Feeling overwhelmed and simultaneously at peace. It was then that I noticed my mother approach, holding that ceramic art. Knowing what it meant to me. She had witnessed moment that I held it, watched me leave it, and she knew that she had to purchase it for me. She approached with the art held out to me. I took it from her and held it close to me and sobbed. And when I awoke there were tears in my eyes and the familiar soreness in my throat, and a gratitude in my heart for it all.
