I just got so grumpy I thought I was going to die. I missed something important to others and myself and instead stayed put and sane and caught up a little. But suddenly my whole life seems miserable and kind of pointless.
So I look out the window and think about the a posting for a editor for an academic publishing company like Where you been all my life?
I feel inconsequential. I take my stroller out for a spin and hear lightning strikes everywhere. I fall out of time. I wonder where I have been and how much more of this I can stand. Take a tulip and fling it into the underwater juice of silence and write, write, write.
A goodbye letter for peace and justice. An antiquated workshop of doom. How many more of those can you stand, my dear? Would you take it to heart and wash yourself clean? I take a cue from the lemonade stands of my childhood. I sleep and wonder if it would have been better had I pushed on? Can I believe in one thing so much that I lose myself in the storytelling? In order to find the strength stamina to rejuvenate, to feel the juices flowing, I rejuvenate myself over and over and over and then I fall into the lake and see the sky through the water.
I decide to try the writing exercise where I have 5 minutes to live. Goodbye, my best daughter. You’ve taught me so much. I wish for you peace as wide and deep as any you’ve ever known, happiness, joy and a moon full of love at every turn. You deserve it! You are worthy! I was too, though it took a while for me to realize this and encounter the fields of my own heart, and rather than to fear them. It took so long to allow and trust every single thing in me, one at a time, to turn them over in the river of spiritual light and be washed clean.
I go knowing I am loved, that I’ve done my best, that this mountain’s awaiting me. I kiss the glazed earth with silence and gratitude. Thank you!
Whoops, not dead yet. So I will apply. I will and I’ll also click my heels together seventeen times and I’ll also blog and I’ll also make time for love.
I write digesting everything and feeling sick from it all like I need to wash my hands of everything, everything and find it in my heart to be renewed once and for all. I love the way I come back from underwater wishing I could simply swim away from it all in a river of blended joy and sorrow. You don’t know which you’re going to get or which will heal you more. You only know that you’ve got one shot at it and it’s going to live on beneath and beyond you and you hope that one or more of your moments mattered and you live it and you ask and ask and ask and answer and answer and answer YES God I love you, YES God I love you so truly. I am open, make of me what you will.
I twist out of the knot to be present with you as you cry. You help tuck in the patio cushions under the tarp as the rain pours down. You take the dog to bed with you and you purr and I remember why it is that I’ve got to come down off of things: So when you need me, I’m home.