When I look to my third chakra I see a man in pale coveralls. He is ready to get the job done. He’s got a walkie-talkie pressed to his ear but all it’s putting out is static. He gives it a shake and tries again. “Hello?”
He is ready to get the job done, but he needs instructions. He needs to be told what it is he needs to do. There’s been a communication breakdown, some technology glitching.
I go to him, take his hand. I am thinking I will inscribe the instructions on his palm with the tip of my finger, but instead I rest my head in his hand, laying cheek to palm. I give him my tenderness and vulnerability. I trust him to read it right.
With his free hand he strokes the hair back from my face. It’s all right now. It’s going to be all right.