I typically have an opinion about pretty much everything. I started as a shy child, content to play in fields and then became a woman with a grave notion to hold the weight of the world upon tiny shoulders. At the moment I came to understand that some folks, things and creatures had no voice, I opted to speak up- and I've not shut up since; though I really ought to. I'm working on it. Sorta.
There are, however, those rare moments, when I am stumped by a thought, a question or concept. And most of the time, it's the simpler notions which beguile me most.
When someone asks me, "How are you," I am content to answer with the socially accepted "good," or "crazy-busy," big smile, here. Though, when someone stops to look at my face and asks me again, "No. I mean it. How are you?" I block up. My heart chokes a little, and my brain can't remember which pistons fire thought, and which way the blood's supposed to flow so that my vocal cords can verbalize what my brain has determined is a suitable answer. So, today when a co-worker asked me what I really..."No. Really wanted to do," I had to take a deep breath. The simple answer was "write."And then, he put me to work. Duh, I have a blog, but I am not fabulous about adding much to it..who cares what I have to say?
My Mum does. She thinks I can write...but she also thinks that Yanni is a dream boat...so...
In putting me back to work, I in turn asked for some structure..."give me a topic, something to write about."
And he asked: Where are you?
Damn...another simple notion. Where am I?
I am in a room, listening to a country song about a lovely woman who was cheated on by her husband...another one...god...my cat sits perches on my writing desk, and the rain falls like feathers. And I am...writing!
No. Really. Where am I?
I am stable, plain and simple. I made it to age 31. I read Better Homes and Gardens, kiss my friends new babies and listen to music, loudly. I've accomplished most goals I have set for myself. I am financially independent, most important, and I have done a lot of necessary forgiving. I say this because my uncanny ability to hold on to the bad stuff is one of my greatest faults. It's one that has held me back. And these days, with much of that finally let go, my life is very simple.
I often reason with myself, under the impression that I am far too complicated a person to achieve such a basic and reasonable a goal. So, I suppose I am in a place of rebuilding a path, so to speak. I have a lot of free time, now that my anger at life has subsided. I have time to laugh now. I appreciate my quiet moments, on the couch, getting entirely lost in a book. I'm learning how to plant and nourish vegetables. I'm cooking. I'm learning how to be in the most healthy relationship I've ever been in and more importantly, how to sustain it. I'm learning how to handle friendships that change, inevitably with age and how to let go of the them when I have to. I'm learning how to be a person who is happy, and living according to my wants as opposed to being a "people pleaser." And somewhere along the way, I also learned how to cuss like a wasted sailor. I should know better- I mean, I went to Finishing School and my Mama didn't raise me that way, not with those Southern manners she instilled in me, no way. I've also learned the entirely useful duel-concept of telling people where to stuff it...tactfully. That's the newest one for me- I had a really hard time with this one, but I am well on my way to prying myself off of the doormat.
I am also learning to look at the darkest hours of my past and pull from them, the good stuff. And some of those memories are so magical, they bring me to tears. Like being ten years old in North Carolina, sitting at the edge of a pond, after a thunder storm. Lightning bugs filled up the sky (probably those fairies I searched so hard for) and the thunder sang, rather than roared. I was escaping some pain, but at that moment, life made sense. My left hand gripped a tall glass of sun warmed sweet tea (which of course I had stolen from the refrigerator) and my right hand plucked at the wet earth beside me. I searched for worms, fairies, butterflies and a rare species of wild flower. My pink corduroy pants were sodden with wet earth stains, my pink sleeves stained with grass remnants, at the elbows and my pink ribbons were torn from my hair at the hands of an angry tree branch. A moment later would bring some unreasonable measure of reality, but for that moment, I was in heaven, utterly.
Now, at least, amidst the darkness, I can remember the magic that existed there, all around me. Some of the memories, held behind the curtain of a child's hurt, are some of the most profoundly awesome. They help me remember the kid I was before cognitive awareness kicked in. Mom and, now, Dad encouraged me to be whatever I saw in the mirror on any given day- mostly a carefree kid, so loved and whose greatest accomplished would have been to see a fairy... and help rescue sad animals. Sifting through the garbage of memories to get a hold of the good ones is one of the kindest things I have ever done for myself. One of the most profound. Important because remembering the smell of the earth after a storm, the flit of lightning bugs and kiss of thick Southern air reminds me of magic. Such memories help me to, move on from some unfortunate circumstances. Most important, it gives me the space to remember who I was when I started down this path. If I can just hold on tight enough, I can get some of that innocence back...
With so much left to the sky above me and the ground below me, I am trying to figure out three things mainly:
- How do I shut up and simply accept what is right now?
- What am I good at. No. Really. It's become an overbearing thought that keeps me up at night, my head in the clouds and my feet off the ground.
- When I figure that out- how do I use that to move ahead?
So, I guess I am really at The Beginning.
I'm sort of starting over. At 31.
Alright then...that's where I am now. At the beginning...
I don't have my usb cord, otherwise I would post a pic of my cat, still perched in the same pose, watching feathers fall like rain from the sky.
