The Reluctant Muse
he once asked
and i had no answer
i still don't
it wasn't something i sought
not the result of some lonely-night thought
it started with a look,
a moment, a whisper
a handshake, a glimmer
a hint of
new, yet familiar
an astonishment that
men like him
did exist, in this world
an acceptance of all that i learned to
question, deep, within myself
and i had to save it
again and again and again
and i still do
i knew i couldn't write him into my life
but i could write him into the hearts of so many
and light them up
win their hearts
the way he ignited mine
once upon a time
he lives now in my pen
in my heart
in my head
in all the thoughts
that are still left unsaid
and why wouldn't they be?
to imagine you stepping out of the page
at this point
seems quite surreal
another lingering mystery
i never pretend there's a
you and me
but i'm intrigued by you
and all that you see
to speak, i wouldn't know where to start
but to imagine, to write, to sculpt you into art?
this appeals to my heart
and these stories of you
shiver cold and burn hot
i don't know
perhaps you could ask
i once saw you as Other, so far apart
a repeater, regurgitator
a soul-for-sale duplicator
the jagged edge of cold stone
surrounded, loud, yet completely alone
hard. rough. jagged. gruff.
stubborn. heartless. calculating. tough.
time would soften my view of your edges
your oft-hidden heart would lead friends from their ledges
and hidden you stayed for good reason, i've seen
walls so high to protect a heart so bright
behind darker glass, eyes that shined with such Light
seeing much more than you'd ever dreamt
feeling much more than you'd ever said
and where to put it, and where to put it
and to keep it inside would surely tear at your mind
but to lay it all out would surely let them poke you blind
and so what choice was there to make?
silence, it seemed, was the road to take
and there, in that place, could you really see
feel, grow, breathe deeper into Being
balancing wanting with nurturing, needing
healing a heart that wished to keep bleeding
allowing its pulsing, its singing, its beating
that knowing, that ache, of more
allowing its Grace, its acknowledgment of peace
allowing its space, its expanding, its release
of all that is no longer to be kept
in allowing the unseen to loosen its grasp on your heart
you've set yourself free, you've chosen a new start
and this is where all the best stories begin
this is where you finally let the Truth in
Lost in my adolescent past
The gift of a second glance
Days of impetuous, unbridled Now
Undertow, letting go, holding on, reaching for Bliss
Rose petals and mystery and magic in the mist
Galaxies collide, collapsing into the
grand symphony of a brand new whole
pulsating, undulating, reborn as One
Each dying into the other
Separate from the rest
Shining, apart, its own work of Art
Yes, yes, I remember, I know
I can remember, Spring's taste still sweet upon my lips
Then, Summer's sweet effervescent kiss
The allure, the torture, the pull and twist
Such a cosmic, scintillating glow
When two worlds combine
and no one else has to know
But time and experience have taught this little girl
that I'm the only one who can design my Life, My Love, my Heart ...
This woman, here now, is not that little girl
Pain changes people and I live in a different world
But the question hangs heavy in the air
Can prying open Love's box lead to Joy and not despair?
Can we recall Spring and dance eternally in Summer's Sun?
One never knows, so we call in Faith and Chance
and we Trust in the Moon and we wait
And we wait
And we writhe
And we wait
For a sign, for a clue, for a hint that it's safe
But Love's raw gaze is never safe!
It's a raging ocean and a tranquil sea
It's holding space for a You while honoring Me
It's a dizzying dance on the edge of a razor sharp knife
And then if we fell...
If we fell
Extreme love, ripped out hearts
Bent and broken into splinters and shards
Recreated again and again, as the Sun and the Moon in the sky that we drink into our very bones and skin every night!
And we breathe, into knowing
These glimpses of perfection that are gone too soon
Because to Live is to feel, to Love, to risk, and to bleed
But Now, but here and Now
Growing into wholeness, this womanhood, this thoroughly scarred and
It's a want, not a need, I am already all I desire to Be
All the while, holding fast to my hopes and Spring-time dreams
that are also Me, yes, these are also Me,
as sure as the Sun, the Sky, the Birds, the Trees
An awakened woman will dance only with those
who can heal on their own, in the way she has learned:
painfully, slowly, deliberately, energetically
We must hear our own heart-songs, first,
before we attempt to make music together
Despite our hunger, despite our thirst
So, I'm finally getting around to telling this story:
Her name is Ilana Limoni. She's a local library patron, a sweet soul, and a woman with a lifetime of stories and...art. If you Google her name you might find some blogs about her needlework. She's devoted endless hours to scripture (The Torah) and to visualizing and creating her masterpieces, which are wall-panel sized creations of epic scope.
She showed us (a co-worker and I) to the table where she prepared lunch: a simple German potato salad, with peas, pickles (yum), eggs...it was delicious and light. Served on romaine leaves with cherry tomatoes. Lovely.
Later, she showed us around. At first, the jaded control freak inside me started to rumble..."we have to get back to work, we punch a time clock!" Raaaaa... shush, I said to myself. Surrender...
The more we gazed, the more transfixed I became. She showed us her easel, her worktable, where she conceptualized each piece, the images, the Hebrew characters that would tell the stories that she wanted to convey. So many of the epic parables that we grew up with in the West, these grand and lasting stories: the stone tablets, Moses parting the Red Sea and the Exodus...the detail was impeccable and her devotion was touching and astounding. This woman is a true artist. A slow, deliberate, meticulous, and deeply inspired artist. A master at her craft. Some of these pieces should be in a museum of some kind.
In the other rooms, were some non-religious pieces. She offered some of her pieces to my co-worker and I. (I should mention that we help her get books and have known this woman for quite some time, there's a friendship here. It's not normal for us to visit the homes of our patrons.) Anyway. I saw this piece, the one pictured above, and I was smitten. Drawn in. Women and changing seasons? Um....yes, please. Oh my Goddess! Me, up and down. I loved it and I was grateful to accept it. It will hang in my bedroom.
The experience blew me away. Here was a woman that I spoke to on the phone, she asked after my son, often gave generous gifts on his behalf...and behind closed doors...she is this artist. I was blown away.
How often...do we take people for granted? Not knowing what happens in their daily lives, what and who they are, in their private time. What might they truly think and ponder, what might they be creating. What gifts lay hidden, beneath the surface.
"See the Light in others, and treat them as if that's all you see..." - Wayne Dyer
I always say that each of us has some special gift, maybe more than one, if we're truly blessed. And something happens. If we're not raised in an environment that supports free expression and exploration of the Self, we often stuff these gifts down, where they become hidden. Pushed and shoved into a box, smaller and smaller until they're barely noticeable. Because sometimes, it just hurts too much to feel the desire to create and the inner knowing of more, with no freedom to pursue such things. So, we get into school and we're expected to conform. To fit. To quiet our inner impulses to see the world differently and spit it back out; digested and reformed into the way that we see it and understand it. We're dissuaded from a path that might foster growth and the celebration of our gifts and creativity by those who were wrapped in their own fears and ideas of Life. And so another cycle continues...go to school, memorize facts, don't question anyone, and then get out and exhaust yourself making money for someone else, savoring the weekends, longing for those getaways. And becoming dependent on a cyclic system that keeps us in one place. Work, eat, sleep, spend. Etc...
And in the "rat race" as they call it, in this blind stupor, this routine, that we've become accustomed to living in, day in and day out...we lose that...spark. That thing, that tingle that sets us on fire, from within. That thing that connects us, so deeply, to something bigger, something vast, something unseen and magical and powerful and passionate. That thing that makes our eyes open just a bit wider and the hairs on our necks stand up. That makes our heart beat just a bit faster, at the idea of being able to pour ourselves into it, uninterrupted. That thing that pulses, deep, deep inside, and we just know that others are waiting for it, that only we can shape it in our particular way, and share it. The thing that we can lose ourselves in, lose time in, and find ourselves in after a matter of deconstruction. Our...art. And it doesn't have to be visual art. I'm talking about song, dance, sculpture, writing, poetry, painting, speaking, film, photography...needlework. Anything, really. Anyone who can imagine a thing and pull that idea from the ether and manifest it, into physical form, in the present....is an artist. A creator. A force of all that is natural and vital and primal and pure.
Because at our core, beneath the busyness and struggle and complaint and rushing back and forth, beneath the bills and obligations and appointments and people-pleasing and noise...we are creators. Way back, before industrialization, before becoming so "civilized," human beings had a psycho-spiritual connection with their home...our planet. And we celebrated the Sun and Moon, the tides, the stars...oh, the stars. The Gods, in the Heavens. The elements: Fire, Water, Air, Earth...plus, the all-encompassing Spirit, the energy that holds us all together ...made up all that is Life.
"Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else." - Leonardo DaVinci
We are amazing creatures simmering with all sorts of potential to feel, hear, and see our world and everything, everyone in it...with the eyes of God, with the eyes of Creation, itself. It's already within us, sometimes deep, so deep, that we forget. Sometimes it takes a shaking, of sorts, a vigorous change of perspective, a world flipped upside down...in order to find that spark. An awakening. A reckoning, a moment of realization, that yes! Yes! There is more, I am more!
You are. We are. All of us. And being there, sitting with people, and living in a way that encourages them to explore, within, and look for that spark? Is becoming a life's quest and purpose for me, in and of itself.
I remember when driving back from my failed Boston adventure with my father (the historian), and the epic conversations we had. Remembering...as a species...how much we've created. In the history of the human being. Look around you. At anything. At the device in your hands, right now. Once upon a time? Sand, maybe.
Imagine a world, raw and vast and teeming with unimaginable dangers and beauty at every turn. Unexplored. Brand new. Raw materials, only. Earth. Water. Air. Fire. Fire meant heat. Heat could alchemize and transform things. We could melt things, cook things, change things at a molecular level. Imagine having to take sand, mud, water...and create all the synthetics and materials that you'd need to build an iPhone. With a microchip, to make it work. And an unbreakable rumble-cover. And the cute little decals on the back. Could you possibly fathom how to do that? With a handful of dirt? No. Unlikely. We're too far removed from our innate capacity to create new things out of raw materials and inspired ideas.
We're too busy. Buried beneath sound, clutter, routines, and obligations. We've forgotten who we really are.
I don't expect anyone to duck out of society and abandon everything that they know and love, to go live a la Lennie and George, "off the fat of the land." But I will say, that carving out time to hear ourselves? To allow new ideas and inspiration to bubble forth? To allow time for crafting, creating, inventing, theorizing...creating time, for the New? Is life-changing. Even the thought. Even entertaining and holding that thought, "I will create time alone, and allow my Self...to take the floor. I will spend time with just me, for me. And see what happens." Just in that declaration, you are making a choice. And that choice creates a ripple that tells the rest of You, that this is important. And all the little beings and systems and ideas and energy that make up You...begin to get to work, in creating that time for you. Sometimes, even that, just making Time...is a first step. And it's huge.
And it's absolutely worth taking. You are worth that time. And i'm sure, I know, that beneath everything that you believe about who you must be and how you must show up, there is a magic within you that wants to express something. Something that no one else, not one of us, can. Not how you can, because it's yours. Alone. And the more we let it out, the more rises up, and wants out...too. Choosing to honor your creativity sets a new standard for how You do You. It builds momentum. And you get to step out there on that ledge, over and again, a new journey, each time.
More and more alive, each time. Until that nearly damp still smoldering ember becomes a burning flame, that can light up all of humanity, eventually. I believe this. I believe it truly is contagious. And I believe we are underway, toward a new way of being in this world. Awakened, alight, alive, inspired, compassionate, honest. Toward a collective good, an evolving populace, that will raise up all of us, into a thriving future. Not an unbalanced utopia, but a balanced and healthy world, that represents the best of all of our divergent ideas. Brought together, for a greater good, that serves all of humanity.
Big dreams, yes.
Where clean waters have the freedom to flow and nourish, wherever they meander. With towering, cleansing trees and greens and lush forests, to filter and heal our outdoor spaces. With restored and nourished soil, that grows vibrant living food, in a way that makes sense, for all of us. For all of us. It's a huge planet. There is enough. If we can start to shift how we live on it. And these are the waves that we see, toward focus of the Self. Energy imprint, healthy lifestyles, knowledge of Self and less co-dependence, compassion, caring, and a desire to serve in some way. A longing, a deep-seated need to uplift for the greater good. And it's loaded, for sure. Because we are so divided, with the remnants of old ideas that don't serve anymore. Not where we're going.
It's epic, really.
There is me. And then my family. Friends. Community. Town, State. And somehow...we've all jumped to a worldview, a global village. While countries deteriorate and fight, within. Something is missing. We need to focus on our countries, so that each limb of this current working (?) surface-built system called Life on Earth can flourish and heal, even as we heal, underneath all of that. Healing in the physical, in real-time, at the country level, and then participating, together, at a global level, will help usher in a healthy and sustainable global village faster than depending on individuals, even working collaboratively. We must all work on multiple levels, not just in energy, not just on the ground. It's both. Together. The connective energetic tissue and the physical manifestations that lead us in body and daily living. It's both.
Just my thoughts, of course. But I do know that it's all connected. We don't get to skip things because they're hard. The hard is where the work is. it is my wish to work toward rehabilitating and uplifting the American Dream, in a way that is reverent and respectful, of this land's first people. I don't think we did it right the first time. I think our current leadership is a huge wake-up call to get our shit together. To restore the values, ideals, freedoms, creative pursuits and inventions...that came with a New Frontier. This land is great one, for many reasons. Regardless of who is in charge, I LOVE this country. I love the initial idea of it: a land free of persecution, where new and emerging ideas could flourish. The United States of America, was in and of itself, an idea, brought into being my rebels and visionary thinkers. Bells ringing? And it's still a good one, if we could fix what we broke when we first got started. And we broke a lot of stuff, we stole from people, we hurt people. We just did it wrong. All around. I just want us to do our part, in trying to get it right. For our children's children. And our planet. That's all. No biggie, really. <3
Hello lovers, searchers, fighters, hiders, seekers, friends...readers:
I may ramble a bit, today. Here's why. In the vein of "keeping up with writing," I'd been doing Morning Pages, a la Julia Cameron. And it's great. Gets the funk out, clears the pipes, information and inspiration flow through much more easily. In high school, I called it journaling, in a trendy lil notebook with lots of doodles and NKOTB and Bob Marley lyrics and puffy unicorn and/or faerie stickers. In my twenties and beyond...I mean they started AOL dial-up in homes just as I graduated high school! Imagine??? Yes kids, you'd have to leave the room to upload that new pic of your crush, because it took like a half-hour...pixel by ever-creeping pixel...so my output became blogging: my out-loud, crossing the void, searching for souls, diary...of sorts. "Is anyone out there?" And I'd wait. And even then, I made new friends in the ether, over the internet, mind to mind. Soul to soul, as I saw it. What a fascinating new medium this was...how...magical. Ones and zeroes harnessed and sent in packages at a time through the air itself to form images, sounds, where they touched down...OH! ... I was hooked. Wow.
I'm an adult now. A Mom. A known and recognizable member of the community that I love and live in. A public servant, to boot. So, I find myself...filtering. How much do we put out there? Be authentic, but not that authentic. Write to bleed! But not that much. Keep your juiciest bits, and write what suits your "image."
What a bunch of bullshit. Sorry. I can't keep up falsehoods for long. Not a bit. It's just not me. I'm all out there, as many of you know. Hell or high-water, as they say.
So, as a wanderer, absorber, seeker, explorer, a new soul, as it were...with old soul tendencies... I've come back to what comes naturally for me. Instead of maintaining: morning pages PLUS sculpted, careful blog entries PLUS the work in progress or two PLUS a day job, a child, laundry, and adventures... well, I am consolidating. Because efficiency. And sleep. And well-being. And priorities.
To keep in practice with blogging, I am keeping it real. Morning pages became anytime pages which have become my blog. Again. Funny how that works...I guess I just have my ways of doing things, and as much as I try to obey the self-help books, sages, gurus, teachers, and all the rest...I just have to do what works for me. That's it. (The wind just blew over the mouth-hole of my Shakeology cup and made music.) :) So cool.
"The Earth has music for those who listen..." - Wilmot Hyde Bradley
Speaking of science...this was strange.
I was driving around today, getting things done. I made more than one stop at Starbucks, that kind of day. Fully caffeinated, here.
So, I've be reintroduced to Michael Franti, a favorite from back in the day. Just a great beach vibe. So, I'm doing my little car-concert, bouncing along to this tune...and I maneuver to put the top windows up, because: too windy, eating hair. A/C on. Windows up, and it's like I went through a wormhole... "this one is much more violent!" The car shook, the pressure was unequal, my ears were popping... WHAT THE FUCK? Had I driven through a space-time ripple? Was I in the Nexus, a la Star Trek Generations? And if so, what time had I landed in? No such luck, it was way more simple...
I turned around and low and behold, one window in the backseat was still down. What actually happened there? Why would one window down, in a car driving 55 mph, cause such violent weather inside? I didn't know. So, I let Franti sing to me some more. He knows one thing: he loves me, he loves me, he loves me. And we sang a diddy together on St. Thomas, in my mind, for 5 nanoseconds. I got to shake the sand-shaker. I was good, you guys. Right on. So. Window forgotten, temporal energy ribbon or not.
And then Starbucks happened: Now, my new drink, since Iced Caramel Macchiatos are about 4,000 grams of sugar, and I'm trying to curb sugar intake, is a doppio over ice with a smidge of coconut milk. Yum. I've found that I love strong coffee, or espresso, I don't even add sweetener. Because I am so badass. So good, though. And it's half the price of the fancy, sugary, syrupy stuff. So. Win. But here's what happened...I felt deep guilt about the plastic. I didn't bring my travel cup. So, at Starbucks the Sequel, I handed over my slurped-on-lipstick-strawed-used plastic cup from before, and asked for another doppio, please. I got a look. Yeah... one of THOSE looks. The no-she-didn't look. I did, I really did, though. It's called reusing and it's good. Try it. Punks. Anyway...he carefully handled it like the test-tubes in the infectious disease labs. I imagined him in a yellow Hazmat suit with the weird breathing apparatus, like in Outbreak. DON'T RIP THE SUIT! You don't know what's in that cup!
So, I got my drink, and all went well, but the way it creeped these kids out, was funny to me. The credit card machine that they handle every single day, the cash that exchanges hands, the air they breathe, the pump at the last gas station... all of these things that they touch, daily, sometimes...have WAY MORE GERM POTENTIAL than my lil old cup. I'm just me. My mouth, that straw, that's it. One universe of germs there, manageable. And I'm pretty healthy, I eat sauerkraut and drink kombucha, so. I mean...yeah. You know what I'm saying.
I might be the nosiest person I know. I can't not observe, when I go places. When I do anything, really. How does this work, who are these people, what are they saying, what do we have in common, what do we not, why are they behaving like that? Why am I? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
And then music. And words. And music and words and words and music. And Gaia.
With fully opened eyes and mind, the realities we face, daily, can be overwhelming. We all need our anchors and grounding methods. Sometimes Life is terrifying, sometimes, manageable. Sometimes we get beyond fear, to that place where it becomes utter magnificence and effortless Bliss. Yes...that. Oh, that. We LOVE that. Let's just always be THAT! Ah.... (mental vacation to the beach...) But, the truth remains, that potentialities can be paralyzing, too, EVEN WHEN THEY'RE GOOD! What is that? Why, humans, why, do we do this? Why do we shield ourselves from those things which enliven us most? It all boils down to two things, with every experience in Life. As I was reminded, by a mind body coach friend, during our epic girl-talk sesh on the beach, recently: I am not enough... vs... I am enough.
"You are a ghost driving a meat covered skeleton made of stardust riding a rock floating through space." Right? So what are we all so afraid of? Yet, we are. Fear exists, it's real, it's genetically encoded in our cellular and energetic memory, although our threats have diminished, greatly. Is that right? Am I reading that right? No lions and arrows flying at us as we scavenge for berries and wash in the river basin. Got it.
Still. I don't think we "get over" fear. Waiting for it to leave, to transcend it, to arrive above and beyond it, through whatever self-help scenarios that we try...I just don't think that's how it works. I think our psyches are far too stubborn and like to hold on to what they "know." We thrive and learn experientially. Our animal selves have to look at it. See it, up close. Study it, flip it over, move it about with our big toe for a while. Check in with our counterparts... "looks okay, right? I don't think this will eat or dismember me, do you?"
Fear is right to keep. And we still need it, because there are still harmful and violent forces out there. And maintaining a good, reasonable radar, is just smart. I am all for adventure, but I won't tape cash to my naked body and stroll through Central Park at midnight. Because that's not brave, it's idiotic. Most of the irrational fears that plague us, as a society, these days...most...are fear of emotional experience. Fear of feelings. Yes, it's true. I can't because... I'll be scared. I'll be timid. I'll screw up. I'll say something dumb, and get embarrassed. I'll do it wrong, and then I'll be sad. I'll get rejected, and then I'll be sad. "They're all gonna laugh at you," like in the Adam Sandler skit. Fear of feelings, fear of...not being enough.
You guys...Life happens, and not every path leads to eternal Bliss, but sometimes they do. Sometimes it's for a long time, sometimes, it's a whisper in the breeze and it's gone. Whether it's a job, a relationship, a romance, a friendship... That's reality. But I promise you. I promise you, whatever it is, you are enough to engage in new experiences. And you are enough to recover and keep going if it's a mistake, and you are enough to let your heart open more, and keep going if it's intriguing and worth it.
You are enough. We all are. Take chances. Live. Experience. Wonder. All of that. Life is short. So am I...but it doesn't stop me from living my Life. Ha. Off to write some wild horses into a corral... such a beautiful day here. Sunny, warm, yet breezy. Ah...just blissful.
Ciao for now. xoxo
I have been dipping in and out of novel writing since I put the Ana paperback out. And for a while, I had writer's guilt: I would punish myself for not writing. Get back in your cave, write more! Write harder, write better!
However, something epic that I learned this summer, via my garden, was embracing slow. Nourish. Nurture. Balance. Refresh. Allow. Patience. Love. I've also incorporated this mindset into my creative life. I refuse to force myself into...anything. I've learned to let myself and others...be. For the most part. I still struggle with challenges and say stupid things all the time. We're allowed. No perfection here.
So while I have notebooks full of novel ideas, I really enjoyed embarking on a food writing challenge this summer. I have an affinity for sustainable dining, and dining out in general, so I was happy to eat out and take photos and comment on my meals and environment. I love it, it was the perfect project. You can read about my eating and writing through the North Shore of Long Island here.
It was during this project that I realized how important the sustainable, slow movement is to me. From gardening to dining, I want to know where my food comes from. Was this animal pastured? Where? Under what conditions? Where do your crops come from, were pesticides used on them? How are the farm workers treated? If these ideas interest you, take a look at Slow Food. It's the right thing...I feel. Balance and sustainability. Whether you're vegan, carnivore, or omnivore...this is something that just makes sense.
All of this is inspiring the sustainable dining - LI guide that I'm working on.
And while all of this went on...in the background...my senses paid attention. I was absorbing, learning, expanding, all the time. New ideas, new perspectives, and a new story to tell. Now, when I have free time I "get" to dive back in and work on the current novel I am focusing on. Yes, I've narrowed it down to one. (Yay for me! This is a big deal.)
So...what I can say is, don't force creativity. Allow it. If it starts to feel like a chore...step away, do something else. See something else. Allow inspiration to return. Some can lock themselves up and live inside their minds...and just write. I must interact with the physical world to round out my writing and to add more dimensions to it. I need to feel my stories, smell them, touch them, not just write them.
Care for your creative gifts, nurture them, protect them. Don't torture them. Let them rest, when they need to. And when you're ready...they will be sitting up, hollering for your attention. Allow your process, whatever it is. To create is divine, give yourself what you need. xoxo
Hello friends. It's been a doozy of a week or two. Let's just say that some recent revelations, crumbling of illusions...still... have led me to explore some old things. The past.
Everywhere we turn we read something that tells us that the past is in the past. "Let it go...let it go..." But I really do think that in order to have a clear picture of where we're going, that we must look at and know where we've been. And not to forget...but to remember.
I finally went through an old box that's been lurking around. Songs. Lyrics, chords, notes, poems...from the nineties. A lifetime ago, and yet...reading through these things, these snippets, these snapshots in time reminding me who I was, what I was feeling, what I wanted...was like reuniting with an old friend. I laughed, I cried a little, I sighed, I smiled. Music. I lived and breathed words and music. I came across notebooks that should've been filled with notes that pertained to the courses I was taking...but instead? Songs. Words, words, feelings, more words.
This in particular stuck out:
"June 10, 2000:
Too often our surroundings can suffocate us. We can become overwhelmed and feel backed into a corner. Our senses get muddled and at times it seems we're screaming with urgent intensity and yet no one is listening. Sometimes all we need is to wake up, in every way a person can awaken, and look at the world with a different perspective. Every day can be a new beginning. I know that now.
Looking back, browsing through the experiences I've had living in the microcosm I call 'my world,' it took a while to get here. Just like any other, my life was filled with ups and downs, high hopes and disappointments, triumphs and failures. What I've realized, is that every experience, every person we meet and every situation we encounter, help us to grow.
Bad things happen, but we can learn from them. The good things we can keep with us in our memories, in our hearts; they can remain there to keep us warm. In order to appreciate the positive, we must endure the negative."
I'm not sure what prompted these words...the perspective...although I'm sure if I ask around I'll find out something. Reading them took my breath away. I thought such a perspective, those words, were new and shiny for me. But they weren't. I always say that we are writing...our whole lives. And literally, right here, in my own handwriting...I see the impetus for the writing that became the novel I wrote and the quotes and inspirational words that I share. The vision, the seed, was planted so many years ago. Hidden, growing, in silence. With me...completely unaware of them. And maybe it's more than that.
Big picture...I feel as though I've just rekindled a relationship with my soul. With the child inside. And it's...awe inspiring. Inexplicable. It's...connection, in the best possible way.
What happens to us?
So many of us, as children, and into adolescence...have such vivid dreams. I was knee deep in these old songs I wrote, and they were just dripping with passion. Longing. Ideas of love. Mystery and magic. Heartbreak, emptiness, loneliness, feeling lost. And at the same time, envisioning a bright future, healing the world, breaking down stereotypes. So idealistic, so full of hope. All I wanted to do was write music, sing, and inspire people. Connect with people, connect people to each other. Let them know that if only for 3 and a half minutes...that I felt it too...that they weren't alone.
So, once again, looking back...I see that somewhere, some time...I decided that my dreams weren't enough. They wouldn't cut it. I got "real." A passion became a hobby which became a once in a while thing...which eventually faded into obscurity. Somewhere along the line, I let the external control my wishes. I stopped believing, in all of it. Until the desire to write finally rose back up. And I am still beyond grateful for that day...March 28, 2015. Renaissance began. The ME inside, woke up.
A lot of this awakening that we read about...this waking up, evolving, remembering "who we are..." doesn't always have to mean something profound and epic. Sometimes, I think that a spiritual awakening is an obstacle course, bursting with opportunities for insight and life lessons...learning compassion and imperfection... showing us a whole new perspective and vision of our lives and what they could be... to lead us right back to where we started...ourselves. Indeed, it starts within. Just think of all the systems that exist...within us. Each of us. From neutrinos to bacteria to organs to our bodies and minds and souls...there are indeed universes within each of us. And yes, we are in relationship with ourselves. From our cells to our speech. And then, to make it more fun and exciting, we are also in constant relationship with everything and everyone else. Perhaps that's why we see "Self-love" everywhere. There's so much to balance and work on within each one of us, and each thought and word and action...has impact.
Wow...so what does that mean? I don't know. I think it means that we owe it to the greater good of our species and planet, at least, to understand and know ourselves enough to be responsible participants in the journey of life.
We're all the same, at the core of things...and yet there is only one ME. There is only one YOU. Remembering who I am has more to do with the little girl who lost her way, years ago, then with ascending to mysterious dimensions of spirituality and bending space-time. And that's another topic, entirely.
It's fascinating to see how I've come full circle. Let's find ourselves, the ones who've been hidden, waiting, with so much to say, having been silenced for so long, before the influence and hardships of life got inside...and changed us. Let's find our Selves...from this life. Right here, right now. And let's get our hands dirty with learning and experiencing, with "ups and downs, high hopes and disappointments, triumphs and failures." Let's live...while we're here. Right? Isn't that the point? And to somehow find the balance in all of it, and find joy knowing that we are awake, alive, and participating in the writing of our own stories.
Whatever this Life is...it's happening. And to make the most of it, is to know...who we are. What we want. What fills us with passion. And maybe some things ought to stay in the past. Some things need another look, and they're let go. And maybe some things need to be reintegrated and given the attention that they deserve. And something else that fascinates me...one glance at these old words, from...1997, most seem to be...and the melody instantly came back. I sang them in my head as I read. How powerful is that? Not a thought in nearly 20 years, and then...wow. Instant recognition and recall. So, what does all this mean? I'm not quite sure...but I will say that I've started writing music again.
Hello, heart. I see you. Let's talk. I'm listening. <3