Dewa and I had a long conversation about reincarnation yesterday. I was carrying those thoughts with me as I went about my day and suddenly one line appeared on a mental blank page. “Tell me about past lives,” it said. I was near a familiar Warung (local restaurant) so I removed my sandals, stepped up to the spotlessly clean white tiled floor, took a seat on a bamboo stool by a bamboo table, pulled my notebook out of my backpack, requested a pineapple juice, and began. Half an hour and a chicken curry dish later I closed my notebook, returned it to my backpack, paid for my $3.00 lunch, retrieved my sandals, and strolled slowly home. Back in my sweet little room I took myself, my laptop, and my notebook to the balcony and translated the scribbles. The result is this poem.
Journey’s End
.
Was I here before? I want to know.
Tell me about past lives.
Was I a temple prostitute
Or one of the sultans’ wives?
.
Did my cries ring out on a battlefield?
Did I dance to pagan drums?
Was I burned at the stake for my witching ways?
Sometimes a memory comes…
.
Not clear like a snapshot photograph
But wrapped in a cloudy haze
Hinting at something long ago
Reminiscent of ancient days.
.
I seek to know myself, and yet
Can I plumb the depths of these wells
When my soul spans ages of lifetimes
And old knowledge resides in my cells?
.
When the sound of a Celtic fiddle
Makes my feet do an unknown dance
And I already know the Sanskrit words
That the kirtan leader chants.
.
I am trapped in Scandinavian skin
With a penchant for curries and heat.
A crucifix haunts me from behind
While I kneel at Shakti’s feet.
.
The teacher smiled with a knowing
And quietly said, “My friend…
The questions are the journey
The answers are journey’s end.”
.
Sherry Bronson
Longing
It haunts me,
calls gently.
Return, it says.
I don’t have to ask
the knowing is written
in my bones…
the longing
speaks more loudly
than love
or anger
or pain.
Return, it says,
to my green arms
to my heat
to my fragrance
to joy.
Return.
And I will…
soon.
This poem needed to be written. It was tight around my heart. I couldn’t put words to it because I didn’t know when. I didn’t know if soon meant weeks, months, or unbearably longer. Today I know. Weeks. I will return to Bali in July, in four weeks. That is just long enough to get a new visa. Just long enough to see friends one more time…just long enough.
I have never loved a place before. I’m trying to understand the improbability of it. Why this place? Why half-way around the world from everything I know?
Of course I explored the question in my discovery writing and the answer rang like truth when the words of it appeared on the page. With truth comes freedom. Freedom allows. And it is all about allowing ‘havingness.’ Havingness is about worthiness. Worthiness is about self-love.
There! Did you follow that process? Discovery writing unlocks truth. I love it! I created it and I believe in it. It has informed and transformed my life. And for those of you who have faithfully followed my blog, I am returning. Please come along!
writing for self-discovery 
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