Today is my second to last day at work!
(Insert wide-mouthed picture of me here with cartoon question marks all about my head.)
My house is 49.777654ribbonstrinketscardspaperscookbooksohhhsomuchclothes% packed.
There are lots, lots of empty boxes kindly donated from the Acme all over my bathroom bc that's the only place there's room for them.
My office is the opposite of cleaned, organized, or even a teeny bit packed. (if you know me at all than you know my office is aptly decorated with yes, ribbons, trinkets, cards and books.)
But hey, today! Hello today! My fave morning dance song by Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros which I've posted here before greeted me when I got out of the shower. Followed by Bowie, Sound and Vision!
Yaaay morning dance songs and smiley out of the shower place half packed dancing. I mean, cmon. So long as we can dance, right...
PS
Today's New Moon, tonight anyhow around 9pm. Quiet thoughts in the void of what yet can be...
May 11, 2010
Leaving
You know it's legit when you gotta call mom.
Except that's not true I didn't call her, she called me, because it was Monday and that's what she does--on her drive from Ocean Pines to the county, to Anne Arundel where I'm from and where she stays every Monday night at a friend's house because she works at Maryland General, top of Howard Street in the city, every Tuesday in the operating room. She called and I was finishing up talking to Brenda at work and without thinking about it before I was even out of the cafeteria at the College where Brenda and I were, I called mom back.
Another important lesson you are learning is not to be afraid to start over. This is the chart of new beginnings...which there will be alot of....Your connection to God or the Source is extremely important and that is why you will continually need to be alone, make clear your intents and listen to your own inner council. Forced new beginnings probably seem to occur without rhyme or reason...However, when you learn to do what you want, what your passion is, finding those projects that charge your battery, as it were, you will find you will be instinctively attracted to those situations that will not let you down. Self trust is the most important lesson for you to learn.
I sat on a bench in a cement courtyard in the clear sun, the cold air, the green fields and sounds of route fifty traffic beyond the brick buildings of Chesapeake College. I sat on the bench and talked to my mother, and listened to her, and cried. I cried the way I cried when I first left the farm, the cry and ache of grief and goodbye. It was late in the afternoon, and the few students left on campus kindly went in different directions.
When I turned thirty Gretchen, who is wise woman and wolf woman to me, which is teacher medicine, (this link is where she works--an artic wolf sanctuary in the coast ranges of Oregon) gave me an extensive, 11 page single spaced reading of my natal chart that her long time wild woman friend of over fifty years did for me. I was living on Truslow Road then, had literally just started a line of intention and prayer influenced by Gandhi and Women Who Run With the Wolves based on the idea that I was discontented in life due to self-compromise and not following my heart. The birth chart was so eerily on point, so exact to the actual detail in more than one circumstance that I couldn't look at it again for three months after my first read. Self trust is the most important lesson for you to learn.
It took three years, til now, to come to a place where I can say I am willing above all to trust me, to trust in me and follow my heart and my inner power and guiding song. And this, this final departure of packing up my sweet little apartment on Goldsborough and Hanson here in Easton, where I've only been for 7 months, is breaking my heart. But it's not all of it. I'm leaving. I'm leaving -- Josh, Brandon! Katie and fun nights at Anngar, Amy and Megs and sweet afternoons in the yard! Late nights on cold cements and talks and talks and cigarettes and coffee. Magnolia trees and Play it Again Sams! The puffballs on campus in the spring oh god the geese calls in the fall. Chester River and so many swims and talks and the moon, greasy subs and potlucks, gardens and oh the hot ass dry ass choking ass Eastern Shore sun. Dust and tractors, woods and blackberry growing wild.
I'm leaving. And I am packing, and I dont have energy for this anymore, and greif feels like train tracks most overgrown by yellow weeds and thick grass clumps with no train there, and the tracks are laid down and part of you--and they hurt in your throat and feel like an incense uncurling on the air in your gut and after a while you just have to surrender to the uncurling....
And O god Kevin who went even tho like Konan said we were just waiting all those years to get the call, and saying goodbye to Brian and how just this past Friday I saw Hupman for the first time in a decade and we immediately cried to see each other and the first words out of his mouth were Fannon...because yes that's what happens after someone dies the crew falls apart cuz it hurts too bad to see one another, and jesus Mike you too and all those angry late night fuck yous after you chose the gun. How fucking much I hate goodbye. Realizing months later, after I was gone from Choptank how leaving Brandon and then losing Josh sent me in to something like ptsd where I was just stuck on loss and looping again and again through the anguish of sudden grief. And remembering Grammy coming to me those couple bad, bad times at Chop...Grammy who came to me again last night even tho it wasn't hella bad, just me and nuzzling under a soft blankey quiet and tender the tears out after talking to mom. Grammy was there, I could feel her near she has a certain way of softly filling my spirit that is specific and settling to her. And now Jenny Lewis is singing to me there but for the grace of god....and I am caught on my breath, and think of what mom said yesterday. I only know to tell you what your Grammy always used to say Kel. This too, shall pass.
This too
this too
this too shall pass. I just want for you to be peaceful Kel mom said. Not to have to struggle so much. No shit I answered, the struggles been all about learning to hold my own reigns ma. I'm there, now. This is what I've been struggling towards these past years.
Getting to be set on the ocean, the wide open calling ocean of me. And trusting the direction of the breeze, the tides, wherever they will take me, will flow me. Being at one in surrender and trust. The ocean the breeze the wide open calling, all of me...
Right. Good reminder, and now I recall in the time of vision at the end of Harvest last year, in that space of timelessness at Halloween when I moved here to Easton. And knowing that more than anything my month in Oregon would be one great rest. Just juicy, and savory, and replenishing from within.
O fucking god amen amen amen.
Except that's not true I didn't call her, she called me, because it was Monday and that's what she does--on her drive from Ocean Pines to the county, to Anne Arundel where I'm from and where she stays every Monday night at a friend's house because she works at Maryland General, top of Howard Street in the city, every Tuesday in the operating room. She called and I was finishing up talking to Brenda at work and without thinking about it before I was even out of the cafeteria at the College where Brenda and I were, I called mom back.
Another important lesson you are learning is not to be afraid to start over. This is the chart of new beginnings...which there will be alot of....Your connection to God or the Source is extremely important and that is why you will continually need to be alone, make clear your intents and listen to your own inner council. Forced new beginnings probably seem to occur without rhyme or reason...However, when you learn to do what you want, what your passion is, finding those projects that charge your battery, as it were, you will find you will be instinctively attracted to those situations that will not let you down. Self trust is the most important lesson for you to learn.
I sat on a bench in a cement courtyard in the clear sun, the cold air, the green fields and sounds of route fifty traffic beyond the brick buildings of Chesapeake College. I sat on the bench and talked to my mother, and listened to her, and cried. I cried the way I cried when I first left the farm, the cry and ache of grief and goodbye. It was late in the afternoon, and the few students left on campus kindly went in different directions.
When I turned thirty Gretchen, who is wise woman and wolf woman to me, which is teacher medicine, (this link is where she works--an artic wolf sanctuary in the coast ranges of Oregon) gave me an extensive, 11 page single spaced reading of my natal chart that her long time wild woman friend of over fifty years did for me. I was living on Truslow Road then, had literally just started a line of intention and prayer influenced by Gandhi and Women Who Run With the Wolves based on the idea that I was discontented in life due to self-compromise and not following my heart. The birth chart was so eerily on point, so exact to the actual detail in more than one circumstance that I couldn't look at it again for three months after my first read. Self trust is the most important lesson for you to learn.
It took three years, til now, to come to a place where I can say I am willing above all to trust me, to trust in me and follow my heart and my inner power and guiding song. And this, this final departure of packing up my sweet little apartment on Goldsborough and Hanson here in Easton, where I've only been for 7 months, is breaking my heart. But it's not all of it. I'm leaving. I'm leaving -- Josh, Brandon! Katie and fun nights at Anngar, Amy and Megs and sweet afternoons in the yard! Late nights on cold cements and talks and talks and cigarettes and coffee. Magnolia trees and Play it Again Sams! The puffballs on campus in the spring oh god the geese calls in the fall. Chester River and so many swims and talks and the moon, greasy subs and potlucks, gardens and oh the hot ass dry ass choking ass Eastern Shore sun. Dust and tractors, woods and blackberry growing wild.
I'm leaving. And I am packing, and I dont have energy for this anymore, and greif feels like train tracks most overgrown by yellow weeds and thick grass clumps with no train there, and the tracks are laid down and part of you--and they hurt in your throat and feel like an incense uncurling on the air in your gut and after a while you just have to surrender to the uncurling....
And O god Kevin who went even tho like Konan said we were just waiting all those years to get the call, and saying goodbye to Brian and how just this past Friday I saw Hupman for the first time in a decade and we immediately cried to see each other and the first words out of his mouth were Fannon...because yes that's what happens after someone dies the crew falls apart cuz it hurts too bad to see one another, and jesus Mike you too and all those angry late night fuck yous after you chose the gun. How fucking much I hate goodbye. Realizing months later, after I was gone from Choptank how leaving Brandon and then losing Josh sent me in to something like ptsd where I was just stuck on loss and looping again and again through the anguish of sudden grief. And remembering Grammy coming to me those couple bad, bad times at Chop...Grammy who came to me again last night even tho it wasn't hella bad, just me and nuzzling under a soft blankey quiet and tender the tears out after talking to mom. Grammy was there, I could feel her near she has a certain way of softly filling my spirit that is specific and settling to her. And now Jenny Lewis is singing to me there but for the grace of god....and I am caught on my breath, and think of what mom said yesterday. I only know to tell you what your Grammy always used to say Kel. This too, shall pass.
This too
this too
this too shall pass. I just want for you to be peaceful Kel mom said. Not to have to struggle so much. No shit I answered, the struggles been all about learning to hold my own reigns ma. I'm there, now. This is what I've been struggling towards these past years.
Getting to be set on the ocean, the wide open calling ocean of me. And trusting the direction of the breeze, the tides, wherever they will take me, will flow me. Being at one in surrender and trust. The ocean the breeze the wide open calling, all of me...
Right. Good reminder, and now I recall in the time of vision at the end of Harvest last year, in that space of timelessness at Halloween when I moved here to Easton. And knowing that more than anything my month in Oregon would be one great rest. Just juicy, and savory, and replenishing from within.
O fucking god amen amen amen.
May 9, 2010
Taking a stand.
You've heard this axiom before, right? Stand for something or fall for everything?
I agree, but still am particularly cautious about what I stand behind. Because with wisdom comes responsibility. So to take a stand for something, in my opinion, implies responsibility to whatever you are claiming.
And responsibility is inherent of our behaviour--not who but how we be. Thus, being responsible becomes a character thing, quite legitimately being the change.
It's the end of mercury retrograde. That means that most of this week I've spent in review, not writing much because of all the watching. Lots of troubled stuff and lots of mundane, the samskaras surfacing. This is happening for us all right now, this is one of the inner mysteries it just is. Much as possible I've tried to merely witness what my spirit is showing. Allowing the automatic surfacing to guide me deeper into my experiences in life as a conscious, open person.
The review is almost over now though, it is Sunday, I have one week left of work then five days before I start my move! I am excited, terrified, and eager for it all. I am trying to stay perched on the edge of my life, of my daily experiences as a newcomer to the world: open, engaged, in awe.
Which brings me to the beach yesterday, Ocean City, a storm coming up. The way it moved caught me in that place of wild women, of wild sacred spirit: The sacred inner S/HE/IT. That tension of compulsion how sumptious it is. The authentic struggle, listing between the tides of self and inner speak and passion and the real day-to-day walking in the world of job and friends, places to be and stuff to do. In that center place, in the Great Still where the wild yowl of potential and passion surrender to the practical every day--in there the ocean air engorged with the thunder air coming from the north and I literally felt my rebel yell echo against a curve in the Atlantic sky.
That echo. A reminder of the power of the unseen magic of the world.
It was Mandy, Shannon, me. Two, then three, then four of Shannon's other friends with us. Not a lot of talking, just sitting, and some laughing in the sand and let me tell you nothing in life feels like a thunder storm moving in over the ocean and when it came the ocean turned the weirdest, most melancholy green. Then it was black all over the sky, and then the first flash and we got up to go. It'd been hot up til then but the night before outside the club the air was coming off the sea. And then yesterday the storm came and was followed by perfect blue sky, but by last night the wind was blowing like mad, the weather'd shifted, the humidity that brought the lightening and thunder is gone and in Easton today I have to have a sweatshirt on over my tee. And most of all, that place in me, the center place is awakened and charged~engaged by the magic that the natural world rooted in me.
I am taking a stand. It came around this morning after a spontaneous talk with Rudy-Satva, after remembering the impression of Shaman Bob last night in the middle of my deep, deep and otherwise dreamless sleep, after remembering that alluring reminder of magic behind the thunderocean wind. The veil over this world, the power of the unseen. It is real it is real it is real but it is up to us to walk that reality in to being. And so there is the one thing to which I am taking a stand, putting my responsibility behind. All else, the book, the boarding house, OC, Pac NW, Baltimore or Mexico, Hawaii or Crownsville, travelling or staying still~is secondary to this one thing.
Opening up to the Power inside. The deep, unyeilding power within. Being responsible to it, being responsive to it. Recognizing as within, so without. And from within, from that inner spot where I own myself and open up to the world of who I am, so too do I converge with the outter world and the day to day. It is this power that connects me to you, and to her, and to him, and to the earth and to the thunder and to the sky and to the sea. Elemental, because atomically none of us are any different and atoms react to the energy of other atoms. Get it? Within is my duty, yes, but the the living of it day to day is what matters most to me. Being struck and awed by the outter expression of thunder and electric which too is inside of me. Being struck and present in the exchange with a stranger on the street, or with mom on the phone. Being aware of my reactions, responsible to them. It is what I believe we each are charged with doing. Illuminating ourselves, and living this light, one person to one person to whole groups at a time.
Are you paying attention? Am I paying attention? To the faintest inner stirring, to the thunder rebel yell, to the conversation, to the image in the dream? Am I telling myself it doesn't matter, or am I opening up unto the mystery, and encouraging the open moment with what could be.
Consciousness, for lack of a better term and in order to make no religious association. What I am standing for, being alive, being awake, being conscious to me. What if none of it matters.
Sure that's probably true. But what if I decide it does? What if by virtue of that decision, of that one thing to stand for~it does?
Then what?
Then I take my stand.
I agree, but still am particularly cautious about what I stand behind. Because with wisdom comes responsibility. So to take a stand for something, in my opinion, implies responsibility to whatever you are claiming.
And responsibility is inherent of our behaviour--not who but how we be. Thus, being responsible becomes a character thing, quite legitimately being the change.
It's the end of mercury retrograde. That means that most of this week I've spent in review, not writing much because of all the watching. Lots of troubled stuff and lots of mundane, the samskaras surfacing. This is happening for us all right now, this is one of the inner mysteries it just is. Much as possible I've tried to merely witness what my spirit is showing. Allowing the automatic surfacing to guide me deeper into my experiences in life as a conscious, open person.
The review is almost over now though, it is Sunday, I have one week left of work then five days before I start my move! I am excited, terrified, and eager for it all. I am trying to stay perched on the edge of my life, of my daily experiences as a newcomer to the world: open, engaged, in awe.
Which brings me to the beach yesterday, Ocean City, a storm coming up. The way it moved caught me in that place of wild women, of wild sacred spirit: The sacred inner S/HE/IT. That tension of compulsion how sumptious it is. The authentic struggle, listing between the tides of self and inner speak and passion and the real day-to-day walking in the world of job and friends, places to be and stuff to do. In that center place, in the Great Still where the wild yowl of potential and passion surrender to the practical every day--in there the ocean air engorged with the thunder air coming from the north and I literally felt my rebel yell echo against a curve in the Atlantic sky.
That echo. A reminder of the power of the unseen magic of the world.
It was Mandy, Shannon, me. Two, then three, then four of Shannon's other friends with us. Not a lot of talking, just sitting, and some laughing in the sand and let me tell you nothing in life feels like a thunder storm moving in over the ocean and when it came the ocean turned the weirdest, most melancholy green. Then it was black all over the sky, and then the first flash and we got up to go. It'd been hot up til then but the night before outside the club the air was coming off the sea. And then yesterday the storm came and was followed by perfect blue sky, but by last night the wind was blowing like mad, the weather'd shifted, the humidity that brought the lightening and thunder is gone and in Easton today I have to have a sweatshirt on over my tee. And most of all, that place in me, the center place is awakened and charged~engaged by the magic that the natural world rooted in me.
I am taking a stand. It came around this morning after a spontaneous talk with Rudy-Satva, after remembering the impression of Shaman Bob last night in the middle of my deep, deep and otherwise dreamless sleep, after remembering that alluring reminder of magic behind the thunderocean wind. The veil over this world, the power of the unseen. It is real it is real it is real but it is up to us to walk that reality in to being. And so there is the one thing to which I am taking a stand, putting my responsibility behind. All else, the book, the boarding house, OC, Pac NW, Baltimore or Mexico, Hawaii or Crownsville, travelling or staying still~is secondary to this one thing.
Opening up to the Power inside. The deep, unyeilding power within. Being responsible to it, being responsive to it. Recognizing as within, so without. And from within, from that inner spot where I own myself and open up to the world of who I am, so too do I converge with the outter world and the day to day. It is this power that connects me to you, and to her, and to him, and to the earth and to the thunder and to the sky and to the sea. Elemental, because atomically none of us are any different and atoms react to the energy of other atoms. Get it? Within is my duty, yes, but the the living of it day to day is what matters most to me. Being struck and awed by the outter expression of thunder and electric which too is inside of me. Being struck and present in the exchange with a stranger on the street, or with mom on the phone. Being aware of my reactions, responsible to them. It is what I believe we each are charged with doing. Illuminating ourselves, and living this light, one person to one person to whole groups at a time.
Are you paying attention? Am I paying attention? To the faintest inner stirring, to the thunder rebel yell, to the conversation, to the image in the dream? Am I telling myself it doesn't matter, or am I opening up unto the mystery, and encouraging the open moment with what could be.
Consciousness, for lack of a better term and in order to make no religious association. What I am standing for, being alive, being awake, being conscious to me. What if none of it matters.
Sure that's probably true. But what if I decide it does? What if by virtue of that decision, of that one thing to stand for~it does?
Then what?
Then I take my stand.
May 3, 2010
This one thing... Telling the truth.
This is Erika, quoting Hemingway in my head and it's what happens to me any time I sit down and start to write and cant get started. Tell the truth tell the truth tell the truth. Usually it's followed by me asking myself Kelly what are you trying to say?
There is a song it just came on as I finished that last paragraph and it made me smile and pull the comfort sheets of my self up tight around my heart because of the tweak it put in my chest the second I heard it start and the immediate smile and hush of breath it drew. It is one of those serendipity songs and one that always no matter what makes my spirit emerge from whatever tight little haunt of me in which it's hiding. It's one of my fighting songs, and it is the song of songs that would of course in this instance speak to me.
I thought that pain and truth were all that really mattered but you cant stay here with every single hope that shattered. Big Country. Oh this song. The one that Kelly J put on the CD when I sold my shit and went travelling in 2004--it played as I pulled out of Chestertown and left my disillusioned past behind. The past. The past? Let me say this to the past. It becomes you, shapes the you you become. For many months I have worked to heal my associations of me, and my patterns of my past that became patterns long before I had the mind awareness to know any better. I have begun to live motivated by one idea: we regret not what we've done, but what we have not. I have had to ask myself again and again, and sit quiet surrendering to me, to the long inner road towards peace and silence within to hear the answer: years from now what will I look back on and say because I did not do this one or two or three things, I regret? It is in this way I've submitted to me, to following my truth and being brave and strong enough to stand in and go towards who I really am.
There is one area--love, men--where I have a backlog of mess. I am in the context, here, now, ongoing, of forgiveness and peace in that area, it's a constant motion thing for me. And as to this, as to regret, and to telling the truth. There was one, a single real regret that clung to me and went something like this:
I should've been true to myself. The moment, the second I knew I was in love with him--and no longer in love with the one I was with--I should've been honest with myself and with everyone involved. I was so in love with him. I should've gone forward and to him, and not looked back.
I should've. But that's not what happened. And so how does life unfold--how does it mark you, and push you along when there is indeed this one thing that you look back on and did not do?
What happens is you quantitate, you consider. You loop over and over again in yourself and become lost in your self and hate and even further have more and awful disbelief in yourself. You become deeply deflated, hopeless even and don't know why, because often times regret hides itself if you are lacking in a certain capacity for self-honesty in some areas in your life, so that's what happens: if you are like me and you have hurt in a certain area of your life, old hurt, old covered-over pain from long long ago before you even really were you yet, than being true to yourself in that area comes out all slanted and sideways because to really be true means first to have to re-live through the old pain that's still there. And that's fucking hard. Especially when that part of you's always been broke.
Then, one day you wake up. It's a half-waking, but I'm a fighter, so you grab for it. And you realize god damn it, this is my life. This is my life. And perhaps this regret was the one, the one key to the door that is finally, for real and completely, going to make me own me in my entirety. That is going to make me stand up, and be true as I can to myself.
You start to get honest then, about your wants, your needs, about your past. About who you are.
I've identified the things, the couple of them. And I'm going whole-hearted after them. BUT MORE IMPORTANT. I get it, I get me now. I know me, and love me, all of me. I know how to be true to my self. Get it? I know now how to be honest to me. And to tell the truth, and not miss opportunity. I have healed from the early fucked up shit and abuse, or at least have self-awareness that is full and complete, and real. Not sideways and slanted and blind or numb in some parts. I have broke parts you know, who doesn't? But those are now the places I learned to nurture and be gentle with myself instead of denying and hating and refusing, because of denial and numbness and self-hate. Those are the places I have medicine, real virtue now. Where I can be even more gentle and loving towards me, and others, as result.
I am real now. I am whole.
This is my life. And I guess that one regret is no longer on my list because the gift that came from it is absolutely nonexchangeable. I hope that he--the lighthouse guy, the one who led me here to this deep and dark well of my self, the one who suffered at my hands and who I ultimately pushed away and forced to walk away without his own looking back--I hope he is well. I hope he is well: is full, is whole.
I am being true to my self, to my heart. It's all I ever really wanted to learn how to do. That part I don't regret, not at all.
There is a song it just came on as I finished that last paragraph and it made me smile and pull the comfort sheets of my self up tight around my heart because of the tweak it put in my chest the second I heard it start and the immediate smile and hush of breath it drew. It is one of those serendipity songs and one that always no matter what makes my spirit emerge from whatever tight little haunt of me in which it's hiding. It's one of my fighting songs, and it is the song of songs that would of course in this instance speak to me.
I thought that pain and truth were all that really mattered but you cant stay here with every single hope that shattered. Big Country. Oh this song. The one that Kelly J put on the CD when I sold my shit and went travelling in 2004--it played as I pulled out of Chestertown and left my disillusioned past behind. The past. The past? Let me say this to the past. It becomes you, shapes the you you become. For many months I have worked to heal my associations of me, and my patterns of my past that became patterns long before I had the mind awareness to know any better. I have begun to live motivated by one idea: we regret not what we've done, but what we have not. I have had to ask myself again and again, and sit quiet surrendering to me, to the long inner road towards peace and silence within to hear the answer: years from now what will I look back on and say because I did not do this one or two or three things, I regret? It is in this way I've submitted to me, to following my truth and being brave and strong enough to stand in and go towards who I really am.
There is one area--love, men--where I have a backlog of mess. I am in the context, here, now, ongoing, of forgiveness and peace in that area, it's a constant motion thing for me. And as to this, as to regret, and to telling the truth. There was one, a single real regret that clung to me and went something like this:
I should've been true to myself. The moment, the second I knew I was in love with him--and no longer in love with the one I was with--I should've been honest with myself and with everyone involved. I was so in love with him. I should've gone forward and to him, and not looked back.
I should've. But that's not what happened. And so how does life unfold--how does it mark you, and push you along when there is indeed this one thing that you look back on and did not do?
What happens is you quantitate, you consider. You loop over and over again in yourself and become lost in your self and hate and even further have more and awful disbelief in yourself. You become deeply deflated, hopeless even and don't know why, because often times regret hides itself if you are lacking in a certain capacity for self-honesty in some areas in your life, so that's what happens: if you are like me and you have hurt in a certain area of your life, old hurt, old covered-over pain from long long ago before you even really were you yet, than being true to yourself in that area comes out all slanted and sideways because to really be true means first to have to re-live through the old pain that's still there. And that's fucking hard. Especially when that part of you's always been broke.
Then, one day you wake up. It's a half-waking, but I'm a fighter, so you grab for it. And you realize god damn it, this is my life. This is my life. And perhaps this regret was the one, the one key to the door that is finally, for real and completely, going to make me own me in my entirety. That is going to make me stand up, and be true as I can to myself.
You start to get honest then, about your wants, your needs, about your past. About who you are.
I've identified the things, the couple of them. And I'm going whole-hearted after them. BUT MORE IMPORTANT. I get it, I get me now. I know me, and love me, all of me. I know how to be true to my self. Get it? I know now how to be honest to me. And to tell the truth, and not miss opportunity. I have healed from the early fucked up shit and abuse, or at least have self-awareness that is full and complete, and real. Not sideways and slanted and blind or numb in some parts. I have broke parts you know, who doesn't? But those are now the places I learned to nurture and be gentle with myself instead of denying and hating and refusing, because of denial and numbness and self-hate. Those are the places I have medicine, real virtue now. Where I can be even more gentle and loving towards me, and others, as result.
I am real now. I am whole.
This is my life. And I guess that one regret is no longer on my list because the gift that came from it is absolutely nonexchangeable. I hope that he--the lighthouse guy, the one who led me here to this deep and dark well of my self, the one who suffered at my hands and who I ultimately pushed away and forced to walk away without his own looking back--I hope he is well. I hope he is well: is full, is whole.
I am being true to my self, to my heart. It's all I ever really wanted to learn how to do. That part I don't regret, not at all.
May 1, 2010
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