a razor's edge for years. She'd use that and work with that--a much better option than cutting out Juanita's and Carlos's gizzards.
Music was the answer. She reminded herself of that as she went into the house. This outlet was from the strong side of her being, rather than the weakness that took root in rage and jealousy. And there was something about the artistic process that was so intensely private that this part of who she was couldn't even be shared with Carlos. He was many things, but an artist he was not. He couldn't take that from her. Damali smiled and sighed. This gift was hers.
By mutual respect, before the Juanita thing went down, they gave each other space when she was grooving on the universe like this, even though it had taken many conversations and heavy negotiations to bring about that understanding and change. His resistance to her need for a creative envelope had initially evoked a reaction from him at a level of jealousy that was nothing short of primal. That, she'd never understand, but had agreed to let it rest when he'd relented.
Come to think about it, there were a lot of things about this brother that irked her, but she'd let them all ride--up until now.
Damali closed her eyes and lolled her shoulders, dropping her clothes in a lazy trail as she walked across her bedroom. Peace filled her and made her contented, relaxed, and balanced in spirit. For the first evening in as long as she could remember, she was home, in her own space, alone.
After a half-day of training newbies, a four-hour, hard physical workout of putting the team through its paces before she could get Dan to part with his ride, but not before spending more time than she probably should have first thing in the morning arguing with Carlos, she was finally able to enjoy the meditative solitude of silence.
Her music was crying, begging for her to return to it. Tonight she would. A white bath soothed her frayed nervous system as she slid into the large oval tub and sank into the healing salt water. Music swirled within her at the cellular level, and she hummed softly as the water buoyed her creative purpose. Oh, yeah, she had enough pain to create something really deep tonight. Wounded lover... let me explain how this all went down . . .
Incense leaked from Tibetan pots, the smoky trails quietly infusing the healing mint-hued sanctuary with calming aromas. Long white tapers added gentle illumination to the room burgeoning with ferns. Prayers protected her like silent sentries. Starlight and a full blue moon sparkled through the stained-glass skylight, sending prisms of color all around her. Heat emanated from the bath's surface, covering her body in a blanket of wet warmth. She thought of Jose's color-splashed quilt, now languishing in her cedar chest at the foot of her bed. Tonight would be the perfect night to pull it out and wrap it around her. Wounded lover . . .
Life was good. Yes, there were horrible struggles still battering the world. The earth was weeping. She'd prayed for the healing of the planet and all who faced any pain on any level before she gave homage to her inner song spirit. But for this momentary slice of time, it was as though she could slip between the dimensions of it to make reality cease for just an instant, a fraction of a second, to allow her to experience stillness. In that regard, life was good... the water was warm, her family safe, and her man was a pain in her ass but alive. These blessings and more she cherished as she quietly dozed in light mediation, whispering to her muse to please return.
It wasn't about stressing over the need for another CD, or the demands of her profession as an artist, or even as a Neteru... no. Not tonight. Pure music, the healing balm for the soul, was where she'd reside. Total appreciation for every gift she'd received, every lesson learned, even the hard ones, the extraordinary ones, became her inner mantra, for there was only now, this moment-- no past or future when time stopped like this for the birth of new music.
"I agree," a low, gentle, male voice said. "And that's a beautiful gift, too. Embrace it."
Peace instantly evaporated. Damali struggled to sit up, but her limbs were sluggish. Then she remembered that she'd been dozing in the tub. Common sense told her that