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Saturday, 30 September 2017

THE MEANING BY FIONA CUMMINGS


The rain came down on me as if a shower in the warmest country.

I didn’t want to move. It was as if I was in a spell of wonder, like a dream or a place I had been put to stop, stop everything. Even breathing, but you know when you try to slow your breathing down and it hurts? Well this didn’t hurt, quite the opposite to be honest, it was as if my entire body was being taken over by something, something or someone, beyond anything I, or anyone I knew of has experienced before.

 

Since that moment I have spoken to people, many people who either disregarded my words, laughed or gave me their opinion and that opinion is as if to mock me and what I truly witnessed that day.

 

Even if I tried to explain to you what I felt, the emotions I lived with for a short time, there are no words in the English dictionary that will give justice to the sentiment, the love, the pure blissful feelings I felt when that rain fell down on me.

 

I’m saying it was rain, but only because my lack of ability to speak in a scientific tone, using terminology that perhaps would explain my experience in a superior way to which I am trying to communicate with you, is beyond any other way I can write these words.

 

So, it was a normal day, I dressed to go to work. I had a meeting with the director of my company and after many checks in the mirror I realised that was the best that was going to be staring back at me. As I stepped out of the house, cursing the damp weather wondering just how far I would get before it poured down on me as I walked to our train station which was only a seven-minute walk.

 

I was to go to Reading, I had been summoned. Butterflies bounced in my belly, cutting with hunger but felt unable to eat breakfast as nerves would have eaten whatever I consumed anyway.   

  

Suddenly the feeling of pure perfect peace wrapped itself around my shoulders, like the comfort of a Mother, feeling so safe, so calm. The love was far stronger than any love I have felt in my entire life. Nothing even came close!

 

It was as if I stopped breathing. I felt as light as a feather. I was floating just a thread above ground. I looked to the what was grey sky and noticed that the blurry vision moments before was as clear as a beautiful diamond, or the freshest water from an immaculate fall.

 

I had never seen that colour before. My mind told me it was blue, or should be blue, but it was like no blue I had ever seen.

As my head fell backwards, I found myself being lifted. Drinking the silver drops that fell on me. I drank like I couldn’t get enough. It had no taste an yet it was delicious. See, this makes no sense on reflection. It’s as if I am not meant to inform you what I felt, what happened to me. Electric went through my body every single organ, vein, muscle and joint was brought alive. But I was weightless. My heart was being healed. I was being stroked by invisible hands massaging my soul. Mending everything that was broken.

 

The world full of sounds, I left. As if a cloud opened, hands huge and so soft picked me up and blessed me. I found myself in a place of perfection. A rainbow floated over to me. Colours watery and electric. Blues, yolky yellows, orange and mid greens with silver sprinkles of star like falling tinsel.

       

Whistles willows and whooshing played a tune of timeless tracks. Then silence. As if it was time for me to listen, listen, hear what? The inside of my mind, my heart and my past. I was being programmed. Told what was going to happen. As if a radio being finely tuned. But still the feeling of absolute euphoria. Transported as if travelling along a railway track which leads directly to a   journey that one can never forget, rapturous feelings stronger than those you get with your first love, the first time you hold your baby and the excitement or thrill of that fairground ride.

 

That rain fell on me. Changing my perspective. My outlook on life now is seen through clear eyes and excitement in my heart for what I know is coming. To you too by the way, when?

 I have the answer, and the words are written in the rain.

 

© Fiona Cummings

 

   

  

 

 

 

 

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