I got through to myself. Obviously. After posting yesterday, my energy was sucked down a giant vortex. The animal and I were ready to rest.
However. My bro brought home some fresh pears a day before we realized I had shingles. He gleefully told me he’d bought them in the hopes I’d make a pie. You know pears: perfectly great right up to the moment they go. I didn’t want to disappoint my brother yet again, so I pulled out my recipe books and took a look. Had a lime sitting on the counter, left over from an Indian dish, and two pears. Many a times I’ve used lemon with pear or apple in a pie, but never lime. What a mistake! Pear and lime pie is out of this world fantastic. I’ll never use lemon again in this dish. Must note that, and if you haven’t tried it, do it asap because you’ll love it. While I’m thrilled I didn’t disappoint my bro, and I made pie that’s not only delicious but also stunning in its presentation, I didn’t really rest. Between prep, cooking, and cleaning, I was on my feet most of the afternoon.
Maybe it was a good thing. Burn out the remainder of that energy in me doing something constructive. That’s what I’m telling myself. But today, I feel beat. Bone tired. It’s only the caffeine in my coffee that’s keeping me awake.
Ah…at least I’m not crying every minute. That’s where I was. Not just exhausted, but exhausted (literally) to tears, crying every five minutes without knowing why I was crying. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, being so emotionally affected by my physical health and vice versa. People say being disconnected from your body is somehow wrong, a bad thing. I seem to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. I’m not just connected to my body, I’m integrated. Hurt me physically and I feel it emotionally. Hurt me emotionally and it manifests itself physically. That can’t be good. It doesn’t feel good.
Oh, Beeps! Drop the labels. It is what it is.
Noting a tendency to gravitate to family programming. I want that fairy tale, everything turns out all right in the end story right now. It’s as much chicken soup for my soul as the chicken soup my bro made for dinner last night was for my body. It feeds me, nourishes me, makes me feel whole and strong again. I know that’s probably silly. Or childish. But losing faith in the inherent rightness of things is a hollow feeling. And yes, I’m one of the first to cry out in horror when that rightness isn’t met in real life – and I do it a lot. Yet, I still have that thread of faith. As I’ve grown older, I’ve likened it in my head to believing in Santa Claus. People begin to tell you Santa doesn’t exist, that’s not the real world. There are even people out there who aren’t just willing but who want to shove your face into the shit, mushing it up your nose, sliming it across your face, to prove to you once and for all that there is zero reason for believing in anything good. It’s hard to keep your faith. In anything: God, yourself, Santa. But I decided a long time ago I didn’t want to become a hollow person, and I’ve fought to keep hold of that innocence in me. It is precious, and oh so rare. And it is why, I think, people always say I seem so ‘young’. I’m not young. I’m very experienced, in many ways that might turn your hair white. But despite the experience, I haven’t grown a hard shell. I did, once. I ripped it off, and it was as painful as you might imagine. It’s been painful ever since because to keep this attitude, you’ve got to be willing to keep feeling that hurt. You’ve got to go out there and hope for the best. Be willing to be taken for a ride because you won’t pre-judge. Be willing to let go, when needed. It hurts. No amount of previous scarring prepares you for the next bout of pain, and it HAS to be that way.
Your love has to be absolute. No strings attached. Given, without asking for anything in return. It is the most vulnerable thing you can ask yourself to do. But, as so often happens in life, it is in that vulnerability you are actually strong. You can’t expect yourself to walk around in it 24/7. But you can reach for those times when it’s possible. You’ll find it in yourself at the oddest moments, when you least expect it. Give it, and watch what happens. I’ve rolled over people with anger, with dignity, with piety and all sorts of emotional back-lash stuff. But roll over people with joy and love! It’s a tidal wave. They don’t know how to react.
And isn’t that a sad thing? That when faced with that kind of behavior, most of us stop completely because we don’t know what to do. It’s tricky, I’ll give you that. Too much schmaltz in any direction and your absolute love without strings becomes enmeshed in some philosophy or intellectual pursuit and loses all its power. It must be raw, and pure. Unspoken, even. It is a light that fills me, and I know when I radiate it.
It’s been my life goal to radiate that light full time. To live there. I have an instinctual feeling that if I did that, I’d burn out fast. It’s a conundrum. Reach without reaching. Burn without burning. Be, without asking.
I must appear so small to the Universe. A dust mote, hanging in the cosmic sunshine. Something that may temporarily catch your attention, but too short-lived to enjoy for more than a moment or two.
Well, this is my moment.