Time Travel March 18 2011
Traveling in space, back to where I came to earth,
I travel also back in time – back, back, back, and back some more,
Searching for the bright, untrammeled spirit
That I must have been at birth.
I think of photos.
I was that infant — on my belly, lifting up my head,
Photographed at three months old
Peering at the world with hope and interest.
And the two year old — standing in my starched white dress,
Garden angel, feet astraddle, balance still unsure,
Smiling ‘cause I’d plucked out all the landlord’s flowers,
Delighting in the beauty of each one.
By three, my face looked pained and puzzled,
Knowing that I’d lost my mother’s love.
When I find again the unscathed child deep inside me somewhere,
I’ll treasure her, and never let her go again.
I yearn to find her, to look now from her eyes,
To know again her world of joy and hope —
Her memory of love and bliss.
I didn’t used to get it about babies (or about a lot of other things) – what made them so special, so amazing. Now I know they carry with them still the memory of that other world from which they came – where they were angels, unfettered spirits, bonded safely with the all of universal love and peace. They’re new here, getting used to recalcitrant substance, struggling to survive the hurts imposed by people’s unawareness, learning how to work the body that so strangely weighs them down and lets them interact with matter – burden and reward at the same time.
Then the babies get entranced with the body and the world, greedy to extract every experience, every benefit, every moment of individual pride. I did. I forgot about the spirit world for a very long time, till, now I’m growing old, I find myself wondering: where DID I come from, anyway? Where will I go when I leave this body? I feel drawn back to beginnings, and find therein great peace.
About Rev. Dr. Rosemary C. Hyde,
I am a grandmother, a classical homeopath, a mystical poet, and an interfaith minister. I also have a large, enduring place in my heart for Paris. I first spent time in Paris in 1961, as a Fulbright scholar. I remained in France for three years, living also in Toulouse and in Nancy. I have revisited France and Paris multiple times since then, and have come to know The city and surroundings quite well. I grew up in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, where there were many Franco-Americans, and their language fascinated me. I was fortunate in 6th grade, when my family moved, to find myself in a Catholic French speaking girls' school, where I had the wonderful fortune of becoming bilingual. It still feeds my soul deeply, to visit Paris, speak French, and reconnect with the little French girl in me.
I am serving presently as President of the global online Peace Initiative called LivingPeaceNow.Org. We are bringing together worldwide in 3 languages — English, French, and Spanish— small groups of Connected Peacemakers to help deepen and hold Peace globally with their thoughts, words, and actions.
My goal as a minister is to add richness to life for those who resonate to more than one religious tradition or to none -- those with mixed religions as well as the unchurched, untempled, and unmosqued.
All of us, whatever our cultural allegiances, hunger for and need support in finding the transcendent joy that's ours to find in this earthly life. All of us need and want to celebrate beautifully the great and small milemarker moments. All of us crave the beauty of prayer as an expression of our participation in universal love. All of us wish to learn a greater vision, to see our lives opening to the Divine. All of us desire deeply to find serenity and peace that lasts no matter what happens today and tomorrow.
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Rosemary, this poem moved me. I’ve been wondering much of the same… There seems to be a veil between this world and that. Glimpses of that world are frustratingly elusive and each earned time with much pain and/or suffering.
Like silver bells
echoed Ida’s laughter,
my father loved to say,
yet the darkness that had swallowed his soul,
descended upon mine too,
ate away the sound of my joy,
I turned into my mother.
How I wish to find that little girl,
before my darkness
silences my daughter’s joy!
Ida, what a beautiful poem! Thank you for sharing it. I pray that you will achieve this vision and be able to embrace the little girl that you were and still are deep inside — love her, comfort her, treasure her, and know that she is beautiful and wonderful and meant to know love and joy in this life.