Awake before the sunrise to find another blanket, as a chill from the breeze through my open window tells me that its here now, the season that sees the start of the end of things. When light gives its position of dominance to dark. Bright colors turn to deep, which are no less brilliant, in a muted sort of way. Traditionally the time that marks death; the falling away of things which no longer are alive, and of hibernation, is now symbolic of (re-)birth, and (re-?) awakening, for me. Which should surprise no one as I’ve always been (unintentionally) loathe to do anything in the time and manner customarily done.
At my deepest (or highest?) levels I know that this is some sort of cosmic agreement that pre-dates everything of which I am consciously aware, but here today, some 11 months (and eternity + forever) in, my everything is sometimes holding back screaming, (or maybe whimpering) whataya want from me??? (The Pink and Adam Lambert duet version, I like better than his solo version.)
For days has sat this start, and hours now sat me, (Indian Summer’s return and warmth; extra blanket, and blanket in general put back away) attempting to remember where it was meant to go, knowing only that it has to go somewhere. I have to go somewhere. I’m repeatedly told patience (and trust) but the former has never been my long-suit, and the latter got crushed repeatedly this lifetime around so I sort of suck at that too, although I’m remembering to never hold my past against a something/one. Or to always do so, as means to remind myself that what is, isn’t what was, and just get on with it. Excepting of course, to paraphrase; the risk, the mystery, the most certain (thing) I’ve ever known, where trust was/is always, even in moments of vibe dropping as a hazard of this dimension.
(And I hear the words, no story is perfect, it just needs to start…)
Within the blur is writing about how it’s been a year since I first “came out” as a someone who had experienced domestic violence, (If you thought I was going to say came out as a lesbian you clearly don’t know me in real life. Not that there is anything wrong with being a lesbian, it is just inherently impossible for me because men = yum) which was step 1 (million) in the transformation. I want to write about that, domestic violence, and maybe my experiences, as a means to continue to send the message, the face of domestic violence is not what you/I/we may think it to be. Because it’s me. It is/can be a strong, independent, intelligent, opinionated, attractive (yeah, I said it) woman who gets so beaten down emotionally that when the physical beatings start, she stays. And stays. And stays.
Again I find myself wondering how to write about something that seems like it can’t possibly have been my reality. Also, I don’t think I want to write about that past right now. As still I weigh how to wrap myself around the hearts who are where I was, to be light for them, to shine light on the issue as a whole, without going into “it.” Silent muse that one. So if you’re reading this, and you are where I was in the life formerly known as mine, know I love you, I am here for you in whatever way I can be, and will help you find what you need, that I can not give. And I get it. I do. I get that one “no big deal” shove, can turn into being thrown to the ground, getting punched, and kicked, repeatedly, and still not leaving. And you’re not an idiot for not leaving, when just getting out of bed is a Sisyphean task.
…When I took that first step a year ago, and then answered the unexpected call to the higher, deeper, something, there was an ease and an effortlessness to each next step. Everything was wrapped in a beautiful, (enigmatic) simplicity, that seems to have (just for the short term?) gone really fucking far to the wayside. And after years of absolute cluster-fuckness, where the color of the sky was brought into question if it didn’t suit a lie, that simplicity is what I needed. Still need. Even now, which is the end, of the beginning, which places me firmly in the beginning of the middle, I need that simplicity. I will do whatever I need to do, and then some. It doesn’t have to be easy, and “I don’t know when, confused about how as well” but the retreat of the energy given, is sort of fucking me up. I get that even the moon will wax, and wane, I do, but I’d rather not feel like I’m standing here alone, surrounded by amazing people, and where it is inherently impossible for there to be just me but alone none-the-less.
This is a unique place for me, one of having my arms still thrown wide open as I know that is exactly how I’m supposed to be, but also of surrounding myself in protection so what “shouldn’t” get in, does not. But this is the middle now, and the middle will be the forever, so I want to get to the juice of it. Not the bottom of it, but the active parts of it, where I/we are working toward my/our purpose which is always about me, and never just about me. These things that on occasion still make me feel a little bit crazy. “Are you SURE you’ve got the right person for this gig?” Except they do, and I am. Synchronicity after synchronicity after synchronicity tells me so.
What is this writing about? The beauty in the falling leaves, and the sunset. The flowers that cling to life, or only come alive in the fall. The hawks that accompany me so often now, and deer too. They are about remembering how much walking barefoot was always my way. How each Halloween that I’ve dressed up, my costume has been a variation on a a witchy something, and the moment they become available in the fall, how I purchase a cinnamon infused broomstick for my home. They are about seeking beauty everywhere I go. And a journey that is more clear than any other has ever been, that has absolutely no parameters, and confusion. They are about (global) love that washes over me in waves, and about the love I feel that defies all explanation, that runs more deeply, and more profoundly than I’d ever thought possible, and that I know is absolutely given back to me.
Mostly, as I reach what I am understanding is a circular conclusion, I am acknowledging that these words are about me letting go of anything I need to, which no longer serves, and doing so, fearlessly, as do the trees their leaves in the autumn, knowing that around the corner is more beauty. Knowing that everything that is meant to be, is and will always be. Confidant that everything which has vibrated so high, was not just a fleeting “summer romance,” because it started (again) with the return to me, in the fall. It started where I am now, except I couldn’t be further away now, than I am from where I was then. With the exception of those things which I have left unfinished, or not yet started but carried over, that need to be cleared away before the next phase can begin.
So here is another begin, again. Still don’t have the answer to whatya want from me; but understand now that its the wrong question anyway. To my higher self, to my “they” who speak so clearly to me, even though sometimes in another language, and to the other voices, (beloved 👽🦄 most) thanks for being cool. Onward!