Sometimes I feel invisible. So much so I even check to make sure I cast a shadow. To think no one knows I am here, my coming and going unnoticed. Sometimes we make ourselves invisible, hiding behind our masks so others cannot see, know or hurt us again. Sometimes we run from those who have managed to slip in between, or melted a door with their gentle touch. Sometimes in our busyness and things to do we hear not the voices of another or others calling our name, and in the visibility of our doing we leave them invisible. Sometimes with the smile and joy reserved for the gods, we leave random acts of kindness for others and co-create with the sweet Spirits a new life, that is renewed and refreshed from our gift. Ahh yes, tis definitely a joy and smile reserved for the gods, and in that moment of gifting, we know the power of joy and desire made manifest in compassion made visible. Sometimes we stand alone, invisible and dare to utter the plea or prayer ‘help me’ and feel it hang upon the invisible air around us. Quietly, softly, we feel the invisible embrace cloak us, embrace us, touch our heart and our face, clasping our hands and whispering back, ‘I am here. You are not alone.’ Moments of visible invisibleness reserved for our hearts alone, knowing there are no words to describe that another would understand. Sometimes we see the pain of our children or family as they struggle to grow, their invisible scrapes on their knees and elbows and our invisible kisses to make it all better. Our invisibility is our love to let them find their way, to lift from crawl to walk, to mature to hear their own call, and perhaps even, our love that says good-bye.
Sometimes I feel invisible. And then I think of the wind. And I think of the smile and joy of the gods when compassion alone is made visible. I bow my heart in silence, and send forth the invisible breath of Life, “in lak’ ech– you are my other me, stranger or friend, shalom, peace, and angel wings to lift you from your knees of despair.” Quietly I go walking. Into the open windows, closed doors, buildings and cars, I giggle to see invisible angel wings fluttering about upon the wind stirred by the joyful clapping of the sweet Hands of Life. We scamper about, like the wind, with a smile, beaming eyes of joy, sending forth angels and compassion, invisible like the wind, and watch them become visible when upon another they land.