We were on the side of a mountain, preparing for something big.
A man came to a small house all alone. There was a kind of disturbance of air about him. Or about me when I came near him. I went to offer him aid and got fluttery.
I asked permission to lay my hands on him in blessing, “May I?”
He was shiny bald – a long strong head. When my hands rested on his temples and jaw, he brought his forehead down to rest against mine and a vast calm flowed into me. He was the one. We were a pair, a unit. He smiled and folded his arms around me, receiving me.
“What is the purpose of this union?” I asked.
“We will make good things happen.” He cradled my face and kissed my eyes and cheek bones and jaw, as if he were sipping joy.
“It’s lovely to be the source of delight,” I said, “but may I not take delight as well?”
“Dear One, it is your delight that I am delighting in.”
“How will we make good things happen?”
“My arms are strong. My back is strong. My heart is strong. Little star, rest in me.”
“Who are you?”
“I am yours.”
My strength. He is my strength, my worldly power and presence, my doing. He is a shining one, glorious, of the world, an anchor and setting for my bright fluttering spirit.
I will call him Urs Trewli because I’m funny like that. He doesn’t mind. We will walk together from here.