Oh, the word, action, signifier of connectedness and interdependence woven into our elemental tapestry. How intimate we have been over the years, rising and falling into the eternal now.
Help, I need somebody Help, not just anybody Help, you know I need someone Help
Countless hands have reached out to me over the years, holding me, guiding me, embracing me, and even throwing me high into the air only to catch me upon my descent. Help
Those hands, the hands of old, they’ve been replaced. At present, I only see my own two hands. Covered in freckles with a few scars. Short fingers, wide palms. Their shape and size resemble that of my great aunt’s and her father, my great grandfather.
My hands tell the story of generations past, and yet, they also fully are my own. I embody them. I am incarnated into them.
Help, I need somebody Help, not just anybody Help, you know I need someone Help
These hands, my hands, we’ve shaken before, even bear hugged. This is different. I hear them clearly, “Join me and never let go.” My hands speak very clearly that I am the somebody, that I am not just anybody, that I am the someone I always have needed, am meant to be, and already have become.
Divine Feminine Holy Mother Goddess Tara Star, Light of the Soul Meeting Place of Kings, Sacred Earth
I hear you all calling me to rise into my name by falling into my own never-ending embrace, claiming my birthright. My grip slips, and her palms remain open waiting for me. Some days, like today, I feel myself grabbing and releasing, grabbing and releasing.
Oh how I am learning to rise by falling into my helping hands of home. For many years, I heard myself called mzungu or estrangeira, foreigner, a person who walks in circles, as if these hands bore no resemblance to theirs.
Truth be told, I am not so different from them. I take their role, sometimes for periods longer than I care to admit. I even follow their lead inquiring into the location of my home. Unlike them, I tend to be much more indirect, veiling my labeling with nuances so subtle that they can pass under the radar, being mistaken for truth, for acceptable, for normal, for the way it is, and maybe even for love.
A true pity that I never thought all those years ago to respond by telling those companions on the journey that my home was the one standing in front of them. My home was the one whose hands they clasped.
I know now how to respond to them with deeper integrity, integration, because I’ve learned how to respond to them in me. Sometimes inside of me, they listen better than others, no matter the softness of my tone or caress.
This is the dance of Life, of Love, that I am learning to try not to lead, rather allow and be swept away deep into its trance. You and me, we too are companions on this journey. Thus, whenever we find ourselves singing this tune,
Help, I need somebody Help, not just anybody Help, you know I need someone Help
I pray and trust in that which connects us across the ages and beyond that we may remember this perennial truth embedded within us and holding us, whether we choose consciously to embrace it:
We are somebody. We’ve never been just anybody. We are someone. Our names all mean the same:
Beloved, Chosen one, Child of God, the eternal Helping Hands of Home.
Now is the time to take center stage as we are danced into the dance of our lives!