October 05, 2015

When darkness shows up— pull out a chair and offer it tea.





Dark night of the soul happening in real time—lots of searching, lots of questioning, lots of vigorous pen- to-paper sessions...and Oh, lots of tears. 


After a while you stop fighting them off and you let them free flow as they come—sounds romantic, but mostly, it’s just snotty.


Ye not be foolish in judgement of the snot cry—it’s fucking cathartic.

I’ve become intoxicated on stress and anxiety—and when that happens, I tend to get a little cold and icy with the outside world, because in those moments, the outside world is not my friend—the outside world is who my mind is blaming for my angst, or at the very least, the outside world is aggravating my angst…

I know enough to know that’s just my ego talking—that’s just the child in me who shows up from time to time and wants someone to just come in and fix it in some pragmatic and tangible way, or to sit down and shut up if they aren't going to.— it's a pick one, or go away type thing.   

Knowing that isn’t enough though.

Simply knowing, is what has, for years, stopped me from allowing myself to feel the magnitude of what was going on inside me at any given moment.

Simply knowing, is what caused me to avoid, distract, resist, numb, avoid and fake my way through the emotional turmoil. 

Simply knowing, is what made me lash myself for feeling what I felt.

Simply knowing, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be if all you know comes only from outside yourself.

Most of us know everything else there is to know about worldly things far better than we actually know ourselves. But all that pays homage to is our ability to memorize and repeat information. 

We exchange knowledge like recipes, but no one else has the same capacity to know you the way that you can. It’s a privilege that most of us deny ourselves. You have to know yourself intimately in order to be able to apply all that outside data to the inside. 

So even though I know that my ego is the one screaming and having a tantrum, I have over the years, had to take the time to get to know who my ego is in all its facets and not just be able to recognize when she showed upI had to get to know how she acts, how she reacts, how she speaks, how she makes decisions, and the many disguises she can show up wearing as she tries to fool me into believing it isn’t her this time around. Whether I like it or not, she’s a part of me and always will be a part of me. I had to make peace with her, and truthfully, I’m still working on it.  

I understand what’s happening right now and that brings me some ease. I understand that my current circumstances have showered unhealed wounds in divine salt. I understand that the pain is here to show me where I’m still stumbling and why I’m still stumbling. This sick, heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach is actually untapped answers to my questions. I understand that if I don’t show up for myself as vulnerably and authentically as I can in all my darkened glory to tap into those answers, I’ll be sent back to this place… it’s only a matter of time.

I am allowing my fears to be what they are without trying to convince myself that I am not as terrified as I actually am, because… I’m actually terrified.

I am allowing my uncertainty to be just that—uncertain, because right now, I really just don’t have a clue.    

I am allowing myself to question my beliefs, my dreams, my options, my path, my choices, my purpose and my abilities, because I’m doubting myself and I have to explore its possible validity.   

I am allowing my anger and frustration to be as uncensored as it needs to be without labeling it as ugly, wrong, or bad, because, I’m fucking gut wrenching pissed off!!    

And in all of that vulnerable allowing, a tumultuous pain emerges, and I can feel a hunger that I’ve starved along the way for reasons that I still don’t understand in their entirety.

For the past few weeks I could feel the belief in my dreams slowly being killed off...and last night I realized just how dead inside I feel without that faith and vision. My sense of wonder, curiosity and passion seems to have escaped me…or taken cover somewhere safe during this time.

My human existence, my life, and everything I’ve created up until now is a very real thing in space and time—but to recognize just how dependent my life-force is on that which I can’t actually see, touch, smell, hear or taste, but rather, is dependent on faith and hope, that which exists in nothing more than an innate feeling, was shocking to me.

I woke up this morning and sobbed on my bathroom floor at 6:30am. When I finally picked myself up, I was faced with a woman in the mirror I could barely recognize;whose lively eyes were now absent of lightness and life, and I cried some more as I said to her: “We'll figure it out, but what do you need right now?”

…and as easily as I asked, she answered.


“RESTORE AND PROTECT MY DREAMS. FIERCELY.”

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