I haven't written anything personal for some time. It is not for want of deep diving into the well of living, rather it is from a constant water-treading in emotional exhaustion. Sometimes the weight of human expectation and belief (my own at the forefront) weighs me down with lead-like determination and I find myself afraid of the next breath...the next "not knowing", afraid that tomorrow will inevitably find itself echoing the sharp notes of today. These are the dark nights. I surface for a long deep breath, drawn unhurriedly in a clear near-autumn eve, and ask, "What if we can't f*#k it up?". What if life just is and there isn't a right way or a wrong way except our thinking makes it so. What if it...all of it...isn't such a big deal. Would the stars still turn round the heavens if I tumbled ass over teakettle into my own stupidity. Would autumn still give way to winter. Of course it would. What if I stood up, tall, and stretched from my long crouching, took a deep breath and bellowed deep from the bottom of my belly. What if I roared. Would the sky shudder. |
Some days, you just have to forget about ‘healing’. You have to stop trying to feel better, trying to overcome your emotional wounds, or trying to be anywhere other than where you are. You have to embrace the day as it is. And you have to give yourself the most sacred permission of all: To shatter. To break. To be an ugly mess. To lean into a place of utter humility and powerlessness in yourself. To cry out to the heavens, “I can’t do this!” To admit utter defeat in the loss of the life you had imagined. To crumble to the ground, lonely and hopeless and profoundly ruined. To want to die, even. And there, in the darkest places, in the blackness of the underworld, you may begin to rediscover... life. And learn to love the beginnings. A sacred reboot: A single breath. The way the sun warms your face. The sound of a tiny bird singing in the tree over there. The raw simplicity of a single moment of human existence. Hell has been transmuted, thr...
Comments