On the razor’s edge of my own becoming, pinned, brutally and quietly. It happens mostly in the dark. Opening more and more to the unknown, I tremble.
I am the problem.
Not my mom, not my dad, not what happened to me or to them.
Anything fixed limits me. My self concept, my ideas on time, my beliefs about why things are the way they are and how the world works.
Stewing, chafing, looking, listening. Really looking, I find I am the problem.
Not the circumstances of my life, not the systems, or the geopolitical stage. Me. The chaos outside is all a reflection of the chaos inside.
Burning, afraid, ashamed, and unworthy. Staying small for too long, I can’t keep going like this. My heart roars and my skin crawls. I have to do it. I have to shed again and again, surrendering my will, surrendering my plans, surrendering my schemes for who I’d like to be and who I’ve been told I am, surrendering to the living, vibrating, pulsating blood pointing to who I am and who I’ve been all along.
I am the Miracle.
When I realize my connection to all that is, when I let myself feel all the Love my heart, my cells, my body want to give, my very breath becomes a love song to Creation, the giving and the receiving, the inhale, and the exhale all One. When I remember I can tune my blood to the earth, I can hear her vibration. I take it into myself and I belong.
Glistening, crying, shaking, smiling, I feel, inside the fear, inside the very heart of the Mystery, the core of stillness, is a relating to the Void. It looks back at you as you and everything is possible. From inside, with my precious hands on my precious body, holding where I hold too much for too long, I surf every version of myself, every scar every year this vessel holds and I update. Open and tuned, I touch the dusty, the neglected, the frozen, the dismembered, and I survive. More than survive, I feel awe and I am transformed.
I update to myself, gilded. Let me be myself. Let me see myself true. Let me see clearly. Outside of the clench made from decades. Please God let me become myself. I have to do it.
I am the Light and I am the Dark. I am the Polarity and I am the Choice.
I am sorry, for all the trouble I’ve caused by own forgetfulness. When I underestimate what can be given to Life, when I parse out what could and could not be from God, I am the Separation. This too, this too. Even this. Even this is for me. Even this can be forgiven. This too I will survive.
I will launch as I am stripped, rise as I molt, fight as I collapse. I will feel I can’t go on and keep going. But I will not doubt and I will not hope anymore.
I will trust.
Life needs me too much to be afraid of who I am.