AS I WALK
This last week, I had some thought that simply would not stop harassing me. They were just the kind of thoughts that annoy most, you know, the ones you thought were totally done with you. All through my morning coffee, poached eggs, and prepping my menu for the week, I couldn't shake it.
So I did something about it.
I listened to these thoughts.
Some nagging news precipitated these musings which sent me reeling into a past that I had distanced myself from. A past which carried the old familiar news of me being a shitty friend and distant female. The news was nothing really shocking or surprising in and of itself...but it sent the stinging reminder to my soul that I no longer had a friend that I once had.
It's been a while since the first thing that came to mind when I screwed up or disliked my actions was a message of self-loathing. Half of the pain from the week was the realization that mizz nasty still lurks somewhere down in those murky places my soul has yet to reveal to the light. I hated myself with vehemence for a past version of me that I couldn't control.
So I sat at my desk. Lighted a candle to help me find something sacred there and I wrote. I threw down page after page of all the things you are never supposed to say. It felt good, but wasn't enough. I looked up and saw the road beckoning me. I stashed Ariel into my pocket, hastily donned my hat and scarf, and tromped outside.
The messy rot of the forest floor mirrored the fragrant detritus that is friendship...this mucking about in other people's issues, in their decay, in their deity. It's a complex business, a lifetime work at paradox whilst holding hate and love in a single hand. Humans are the most lovely creations; humans are the most horrific creations.
For some reason, this toying with paradox really helped give me some rest. We cannot help what has been done, but I do believe we can do it justice by wrestling with it until it screams uncle. I had to go into the forest because I had to honor that an old friendship with its old issues and old blood was not done with me, nor I with it. So I jumped right back into the murk of it (one does not easily forget) and though I found absolutely no answers, I saw myself more clearly.
I saw myself more kindly.
I was home.