This time of clarity is so refreshing. I'm not one to mince words, so I won't. The sun is bright and blinding. I'm deeply grateful for the light and the scorch of the sun. The way the heat soaks into my black jeans and burns my legs is the way I want to live, in the sun, in beauty, in life, with love.
Every song I hear makes me think. If I am the flame, then watch out little moths, night is coming.
Since the past isn't going anywhere any time soon, let's focus on the present.
I'm moving into a very positive, optimistic, and honest time of my life--can you see it? (I think I'm radiating.)
And this is a quick cautionary tale: please curb your negativity toward me. If you come at me all "woe is me" and sad sack and dirt-kicking, don't want a solution, everything is shit, well, then, I might jet, I might have to shut it down.
There is no malice here. I will want to kvetch with you, but not now. I know, it's not completely fair, in some way, because you've been here with me during all the transitions, and transformations, and long, horrid periods of stasis. Let me say right now on the record that I'm am deeply grateful. Thank you for your careful time and consideration. I am blessed.
And as soon as I get some balance on this new happier scale of mine, I will come and sit and listen to all your troubles. But for now, I need some of my own company--as the queen is wont to do. It's time for me to lift it up. You won't hold me back, brother. I won't let you. Love isn't the question of this day, or rather, if love is the question today it's about self-love and not about me giving any of y'all the everything that I always give (S is the constant and appropriate exception.) If you make me feel bad about myself, you can hit the bricks. Don't look back. If you need too much from me, I'm taking a break. If you can't really share your emotions and logics with me, and hear mine, then I'll see you another time perhaps. I deserve you to be all in. I am worth every last drop of it. I'm trimming the fat. I'm focused. There is no room for half-heartedness or malice or bullshit.
For now, I'm drilled down. I'm focused on experiencing the present. Reacting less, pro-acting more. There is an immeasurable clairvoyance involved when focusing on the present. Without trying too hard, it's like you can see the future just a touch in the periphery, while being very grounded in the now. Both feet. Both hands.
And you thought I wasn't a hippie---always keep you guessing, hun?
Metaphysical lingo aside, I'm focused on what my life is like. I'm focused on having gratitude and making space to be grateful every single day for many moments. I'm focused on how to love, support, and honor my daughter's spirit and my own. I'm grounding down into the core of myself to unearth and shore up my truths. I know me. (Ok, so maybe I forgot for a while, it's true, but I'm back. I'm right here. See?)
Soon enough after being well grounded and feeling back to myself, I will spiral up and get all out there again with the kites and birds and love and music and puppies and children and rainbows, but for now, thank you and you may want some sunglasses, yo, this shit is bright.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. It's all in the fall though, isn't it?
Things fall and break and gravity sings.
(What am I talking about now? For the love of all good things. Don't you know?)
Once, a couple few (or many) years ago, I was quite certain that I knew where I was going. I knew all about myself, and about the people I loved, and more than a little bit about every thing & one else. The arrogance of youth was strong in me. "Look at me. I'm so smart," I said.
Then LIFE happened. Big, important, unplanned life just rained down all over my overinflated sense of knowing. My dry certainty was washed up and I headed for higher ground. Up, up, up. But the higher I climbed the more uncertain I became--looking for a foothold, a place to grab on to, a place to rest at the end of a day's climb, carrying a baby on my back now, towing a man and a car, bills, job, and a garden up the mountain. Must find a place for all of us. Must carry on and climb this rock.
My hands hurt. My feet were bloody. I lost my balance, fell, and lost ground a number of times. But during the climb to higher ground, something happened: I found the might of the climb. Staring in to the side of a rock and seeing, as if for the first time, the minerals, colors, textures of the rock. Feeling the air in my body, the air outside, the sun, the heat, the light, my cracked, bleeding fingers. I feel it all. I finally knew something worth knowing--I was right where I was supposed to be. I could, if I chose, climb up or down, side-to-side, but I was looking at the rock. My rock. I am the rock.
I could drop a couple things to make it an easier climb, but shedding was too scary for a long time. What if I needed all that stuff once I got to wherever I was headed? What if there wasn't any thing better at the top? I held on to all of the stuff I thought I might need and kept climbing for a long time. The repetition mesmerized me.
I started to let go. First the garden. It was a lot to carry--pots, plants, rich soil, tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs. I would miss it so much, but I could pick it up on my way down or build something new at the top. Then the shedding felt good. Thinking through what else was weighing me down, keeping me from moving at my own pace, holding me back, suspending my natural gait. It's hard to think through that, but the climb, the rock helped.
Over time it all happened, I was becoming the rock. Learn. Climb. Learn. Climb. Become. I no longer let life "happen" to me. I am the shelter from the rain, I am the cure for my own knowing. I have not made it to the "top" but I'm not certain that the top is still my goal. My goal now is to relish the might of the rock and enjoy the fall. Sometimes, the fall is all you get--maybe the fall is all I need.
The ground is mushy and wet. The snow is mostly gone, traces left in the shadows, traces to remind us that more snow is still possible. Winter has it's way with us. The clutches and ravishes of time moving on and on.
There is no drum. There are wind chimes and birds singing the last swan dives, the free fall into spring, where each day it gets warmer, brighter, and the earth becomes more alive.
Somewhere there are bugs nestled into caves waiting for their epic return, but for now, we can leave the doors & windows open. Let the sunlight in. Let in the air. Let it fill your lungs. Let the breeze touch your skin. Although there is still a chill lingering on the wind, we crave the spaces in between.
We will thaw into another spring. The stories we tell echoed in remembrance of last spring, last summer--the chlorinated blue waters, the heat, the noise of a city full of people drawn to the grace of the sun. We all worship. We will write it all again.