Pink Moon (Part Seven): Hail and Farewell, Pink

[windinthemaples]

At the new moon, celebrating the end of my month with Pink, I went to take down my pink-themed altar and to clear the space for Silver's work. The area had gotten cluttered with found treasures and gifts that seemed to pour in to acknowledge my achievements and breakthroughs. From my mom, as a get-well gift, there was a pair of necklaces, one pink and one purple, from a charity in Africa that employs AIDS/HIV affected women in meticulously rolling beads from colorful magazine paper. The other, a small statue of a white-robed girl with her face buried in a bouquet of pink flowers. It is as if she knew, precisely, what I would need to affirm, the girl who bought herself flowers for the first time this month. In the mail yesterday, a card from a virtual stranger with an exquisite image of a pink lotus blossom. Chunks of pink stone, kicked underfoot in a Chicago alley, a multi-faceted bead found sparkling amongst the trash in a tree planter at the exact moment when I said to myself, mentally, "Wow, every breath is a moment to model love in the world, isn't it?" Winged seeds my son handed over, with great excitement, because they were faery wings and rosebuds dried from my bouquet, that enshrined a compassionate moment to myself.

Isis came to watch my progress, looking radiant and modern. Her hair, normally braided and weighted down with a crown, was flowing in waves of rainbow black over her shoulders. She'd traded her pleated linen for a gauzy, Grecian floating sleeveless pink gown, fixed with silver clips over her sun-brown shoulders. She's sitting, uncharacteristically domestic, with a large piece of fabric draped over her lap and a needle and embroidery thread in hand.

There's nothing to mourn, she said with a warm smile my way, you are leaving nothing behind. The thread she stitched with was silvery-pink and iridescent, making small bits of color in the fabric as she sat and sewed conversationally.

"Mama, are you Lady Pink?"

I can be.

"This has been such a hard month. I thought this would be one where I'd really shine and now with it ending, I feel like I've only started to get it, that I'm seeing Pink, really seeing those lessons, starting to transform about three weeks too late. It has been hard to decide whether I need to devote to another Pink Month. I could learn a lot more if I did."

Every month of your life has been a Pink Month. Why do you think that next month will suddenly be different just because you will be studying another color? The Silver will be Pink, the Blue will be Pink, every month you will grow more into yourself and you were always meant to be Pink. Your compassion, your desire to serve, your goodness and love will shine through everything you do and will color everything you learn. You lose nothing by growing in other areas. Each month, you will find the way to give it away, to make a gift of it for someone else. That is your Pink work.

I cried, unsure what to say to such kindness, such compliment, such reassuring guidance. She finished her stitching, knotting and snapping excess thread away.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that."

You are devoted to living your life as a Song to Isis, are you not? Have you never stopped to listen to yourself sing it to me? Can you be so deaf, Rachel, to the music you are making? Beloved girl. Sweet, beloved girl. Sing your heart out. Every day, you serve me well.

It was time for her to go. She stood up, arms laden with her sewing project.

"I didn't know you were a seamstress."

I am not. You are. All of you are.

The room tilted, she spun, the cloth that she was holding floated down and spread itself out against a wall where I could see it. It was a work-in-progress, no doubt, and bigger than I could even take in all at once. Close up, I could see it was made of stitched hearts, both miniscule and fairly large in a rainbow of colors and textures and heart-like shapes. And together, though not entirely filled in, I could see the suggestion of a gigantic heart made up of all those smaller, individual hearts taking form. There, in one space, was a small over-round heart in a silver-pink iridescent thread that I recognized--Isis' latest stitches.

This is the song of your life. Everyone has one, but few see it before they die. Sing the song that only you can sing. Love, for me. Believe, for me. Live, for me.

And she was gone and only a faint ghostly memory of that embroidered field was left. The brilliance, the light, the sparkle, the warmth that had poured out of it was dazzling even still. Had I stitched that miraculous, infinitely detailed image? Of course not, She said from some distant place behind my ear, you sew, always, for others.

And I saw it! I saw friends and family and loved ones and strangers and passers-by I smiled at taking their turn to sit at my Song, stitching hearts of gratitude, hearts of acknowledgment that said, "Thank you" and "You don't know how much what you did meant to me" and "You wished me a good day on the worst day" and "You made a difference in my life". I saw myself sitting to weave a few stitches of thread into others' Songs, marking the places where they treated me with kindness, gave me the advice I needed, bandaged a wound, cheered me with their presence, inspired me to believe in myself, met my eyes and encouraged me to keep going, held a door open for me when my arms were overloaded. My Song is recorded by others, added to with every kindness I do, every act of compassion, every word and action that positively impacts someone else's life here. It is the feedback, the acknowledgement, the record of my Life lived.

A Goddess sewed one of the hearts, a token of my work's loving impact on her immortal existence, and I begin to feel, again for the first time, that my case is not so hopeless after all.

I do the work of Pink in the world and it is beautiful.

Comments

[cloverdew.livejournal.com]

Dearest Rachel,

I only wish I had nearly half as much love as you do. Everyone who meets you instantly knows how well you embody the work of the divine, even if you don't realize it. I think you've finally started to see an inkling of what others do. Your compassion is so boundless; it's humbling.

I know this month was not easy for you, but I hope that you have learned how to show that love and compassion to yourself that you constantly show to others.

In awe and with love,
Sara

[elfinecstasy.livejournal.com]

The meaning behind each thing on your altar blows my mind.
Your deep and profound connection with Isis blows my mind.
Blessed be, Priestess of Pink. Thou art Goddess.

[folkchick3.livejournal.com]

Oh my goodness, YES! You are absolutely the very truly Pinkest person I know! You radiate kindness, love and compassion - from people to Pajamas. You so beautifully embody the essence of Pink in your song.

[lathriel.livejournal.com]

Beautiful :)

[lilith42.livejournal.com]

I have to echo the sentiments of those before me and say that, yes, you are definitely one of the most philanthropic, human and animal-itarian, and most open-hearted people I have ever met. I am lucky to be able to say that I have you as a friend.

Shine on, Pink Lady!

[azhure.livejournal.com]

You absolutely are a Priestess of Pink :)

[moonvoice.livejournal.com]

D'you know, I leave your posts open for days. Like this one. Sometimes it's because I want to leave a decent comment. But sometimes it's actually for the selfish reason that I like seeing your posts in my tabs, because it gives me something to look forward to. So often, the posts I save to comment on are ones that I find it quite hard to comment on, but with yours, and a couple of others, I save them because I know I look forward to sitting here at the computer and writing the comment. Because I like looking at the post again, seeing the pictures, reading the words, getting something different each time.

I hope it's not too annoying for you, getting a comment like four days after you wrote the post! *blush*

You are such a beautiful Priestess (and Priestess of Pink), and do so much glorious work already, it is mind-boggling, and a gift, and wonderful all at the same time. And I am so glad you share this journey you are taking with us.

Also, your altar is awesome.