Monthly Archives: April 2014

You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby

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A close friend of mine looked at me last night. After giving me a long stare she said, “You do protect your heart, don’t you.” She was painfully correct. And that painful truth made me think about my beloved friend.

Loss causes one to reflect. Sadness has the ability to mute the world, heightening the sound of one’s inner voice. I’ve gone through quite a series of emotions over this past week. Even anger ventured in. I wanted the chance to slam my fist against my friend’s broad chest, and scream at him for not believing in himself. I’ve wept. But most often I found myself staring off. My face holding the expression of a porcelain doll, not quite smiling, and not quite frowning. At times I all I can do still, is hold my hand against my chest in an attempt to snuff out the pain. After it lessens, off I stare again.

The human mind can be one’s ally and it can be one’s foe. The mind can harness the creative genius that saves humanity from famine, plague and disaster. The mind can be the portal for a passion that surges from the spirit and onto the page, canvas or screen. But so too can the mind be the all mighty barrier to all that we are meant to be. The voice of fear echoes with a sinister tone inside the mind that is numb to the movements of the soul. I know, I once was terribly numb.

Since I was a young girl I struggled to believe in myself. My early years were filled with upheaval and fright. I ran away over and over again. Rarely did I do so with my feet. No, I ran inside. I huddled down inside my inner being and listened to the voice of my fears. I knew that voice so well it became familiar. Eventually, that voice transformed into the chorus of depression that accompanied me on and off throughout my adult life. Rarely did I want to step too far into my dreams, desires, joy or that vulnerable space of allowing my heart to be loved. Fear told me I would fail. And because the din of fear was always louder than any other voice I knew, I listened. It was only after I broke open that I understood how to hear the voice of my soul. It may not be louder. But its always the voice of love. Fear tries to hold us down. Love tries to set us free.

As I sit and look off into the distance, I allow myself the graciousness to acknowledge how far I’ve come. I hit bottom one day due to depression. It was my, make or break, moment. I broke into a thousand pieces that day. Then I took my broken self, and began to write. Within weeks I began my life’s work. Yet even with all this, a tear forms in my eye as I hold one particular part of myself into the light and realize how far I’ve yet to go. For a time I had a beautiful soul in my life that wanted more than anything to hold my heart. I tried. I gave more than I’ve ever given. If I had it to do over, the scared little girl who fled inside herself due to the fear of her debilitating home life would come out of hiding. Oh yes, in many, many ways I’ve come a long way. I know the soul. My life is the work of the soul. But for me, dear reader, it seems the final frontier is to learn how to give my heart. This was shown to me. Easier for me to care for another, than to allow them to care for me.

Fear is the dark space of the mind. But the darkness is what summons the light. One follows the other. It’s the cycle of life and it is the cycle of our soul’s evolving. So with that, I may not have it to do over, but I can shine the light on this part of myself and see it for what it is.

I do hope that these words have helped to shine a light on you, dear reader. You are more precious to me than you know. Don’t damn your mind, even when its fear-filled. Just keep shifting the light. Fear is a tool, it’s never your guide.

Sane

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Broken

HIGHER FEES APPLY. Audrey Hepburn in Rome in 1970.

Last night I lost someone very special to me. Tragically, he was removed from my life by his own hand. He was a friend. He was a lover. He was a confidant. He had become part of the mosaic of my life. It was on a Sunday morning, some time ago, that without monitoring his words, he looked over the water and admitted that he was excited about his future – now that I was in it. And it was on that day, dear reader, that he took possession of my heart.

When he looked within himself he saw only limitations and broken pieces. When I looked within him I saw all he dared to see. I wasn’t afraid to look under and through the rubble. And when I did, when I raked aside all that had fallen down, I watched him come alive. But it wasn’t just the new growth that kept me. For a time, he stepped beyond his beliefs and into mine. For a time I sat next to him as we built a mosaic from all that once was broken and all that was still left whole. I loved every minute we shared holding the pieces of his inner being up to the light. God brought me into his life. The beautiful force of All That Is knew I owned a steady hand, and would reach deep. The energy of life knew that I would see beauty within his vulnerability. And I did. Oh dear reader, I enjoyed watching him shine in the light. I don’t believe he ever knew he could be viewed in such a way. I don’t think he believed he could sparkle in the light. But I knew how to hold his most fragile pieces – because I too once was broken. I know how to hold the fragments of myself and not look upon them with a critical eye. I no longer see fault or failing. Instead, I see a soul that needed to break free. And when I looked upon him I saw a soul that was shedding the past, and coming alive.

I saw beauty in my friend, even when he was at his worst. The thin vase he once was, had transformed into something that no longer sat in the corner. Instead, he was becoming the very mosaic that lined the pathway of his soul. That pathway led to life and light.  He was life and light. And it shined bright. On him. On his kids. And yes dear reader, it shined upon me.

I can’t say for certain what caused him to lose his grip. The pain of his shards cutting me, cut him. That I know. We both cut the other. But we also healed the other. Where once I fell asleep to the sound of his soft words of contentment, now there will be silence.

Thank you God for bringing this beautiful soul into my life. Thank you for causing him to boldly reach out and seek me. I loved his broken pieces as well as the whole. I wish he believed in himself, and hadn’t let go.

To my friend. You will be missed.  And I never wanted to say good-bye.

Sane

Moving Through Me

Let It Swirl

I like that I write much like that of an impressionist painter. I paint with words. I construct my words in a way so that they are transferable. I want you to view what I write, and find a wall within your life where it needs to be placed. Some may read a sunset where others may read a sunrise. I like it that way. I like that I float across my reader’s mind in a way that my words settle into the crevices. I strike the chords that need to be struck. And such is life it seems.

I’m sitting here with a glass of wine, and once again, boxes surrounding me. A new address will soon be mine. It seems life keeps pulling me along. I’ve decided to surrender to the pull. I’m a bit tired right now, dear reader. The reasons are too intimate for me to reveal. But know this: I’ve been doing some thinking.

I sat in the sun today and prayed. I allowed the gracious sun to dance upon my closed eyes. I prayed with every cell within my body. The energy that is the sun, is me, and with all my energy I prayed. I uttered a simple statement. One that many of you have likely said when alone. I asked that my dreams be answered. The voice that speaks to me said, “What then do you dream.” My eyes opened. I stared at the sun while it stared at me. I shared the vulnerability that rests upon my soul. I said words that those closest to me don’t want me to say. But they are my truths. I must own them. Then I allowed my desires to move on.

As the sun set, I found myself bringing my day to a close while watching its decline into the western sky. In the span of an hour I thought many things. Images came to life within my mind. I prayed with anger. I prayed with reverence. I prayed with sweet words. I prayed with volume. I allowed the release of the bitterness that rests within me. Oh yes, some of what life has doled out as of late has left me bitter. I can’t just yet see the reason for its being. In time. In time. But not now. Instead, for the moment, I bid farewell to the dreams cast just earlier in the day; not because I don’t want them, but because I can’t see the world around me, none alone what lies ahead.

Spirit knows and God understands. All the while, my mind tries to play catch up. Right now I’m wrapped in confusion. What I wake feeling is far from what I feel upon my final blink of the night. Yet, as always, I feel the pull. Now is not a wasted time. I know that forward movement has me within its grip. I’ve surrendered to the undercurrent for the moment. In time I will buoy. Soon I will float again, dear reader. But this moment in time, this pull that forces me under is quiet necessary, you see. I won’t drown. No. Instead, life dunks us under every now and again. And while it does the sand that rests at the bottom of the sea swirls; life gets kicked up. I’ve learned to not panic. I’ve learned to not fight against the pull. Instead, I surrender. I allow life to move through me. I feel all that life is pushing through me. I feel sadness. I feel breathtakingly deep love. I feel longing. I feel anger. I feel bitter. I feel confusion. My eyes are open, yet at the moment all I see is swirling sand. And that’s okay. Life will sustain me.

Just remember, dear reader, that when life swirls around you – change is underway. Perhaps your prayers are being answered. But to allow you the answer, sand must be overturned, life must be shifted. Go with it. Rest assured that you will buoy again. Know that you’ll be alright. You are the energy that swirls the sand. You are love. You are the pull. You’ll be just fine.

Sane.