seeing how to let go.

September 25, 2008 Candace Morris 8 Comments

here i sit....face all tingly with new avada face wash, skin clean and tucked in for bed.
i sit on my blue wool couch from norway, right underneath the window.
i just got up and opened it - and got my chapstick and water.
sigh. deep, deep sigh.
that air smells so good.
drunken goblins walking by my house in giggle and booze...
ah, thursday night.

this is gonna be a long one. so grab your cozys and coffetea and sit with me a while.
i promise to go easy on you.

for though nature should never deign to equate she and i,
i desire for this to be a place for you that is much like the maple leaf that steals your breath as you walk home, or the tree whose eerie swaying of the wind makes your spirit wonder if you have company, or when you finally stop hearing the sound of your heels on concrete because you turned up goldfrapp way too loud and then saw the space needle between two buildings- and it surprised you with a strange sensation.

i think it's called joy.
or whatever.

i marvel at the human gift of vicariousness.
due to some cosmic crashes in my favor,
i now have women in my life unlike any women i have ever known.
and my thoughts go to them now:

i think of her with that enviable posture.
she's sitting on her crown of turquoise and orange
smelling the sweetness of her lighted candles in vigil, this waxen warmth easing her.
i hear her swirling sounds of clinky, patron-infused ice.
she finally let he
rself relax just one second ago.
i felt it.

her redwood exhale slithers in dichotomous mystery and warmth
through the night air to my window.

i am with her.

i thought of her while in the tub.
thinking of her grapes and loneliness.

feeling a pull inside to grab her child cheeks,
tell her that every little word she shares is so important
for so many people.

i channel her confidence.

knowing her restoration will come home soon and come home

i am with her aussi.

i jump a time zone;
i think of the red-streaked raven struggling to settle.

geisha light strokes her hair, shushing her into easier thoughts of herself.
her thoughts linger on dance, laughter, preparation, prayer.
she expels stress.

she misses,
she plans,
she is here and everywhere.
she waxes poesy.
i am also with her.

i think of my red...
nurtured finally by someone without question, without trial, without earning.
she doesn't have to think of anything but laughter, food, bosom, and booze.

i ache to give her the answers and paths, but she ends up
guiding me.
i can't seem to shake her. estoy con ella. siempre.


the week has been grity and murky for me.
obsessions stuck to my hypersensitive porcupine-skin and spewed their venom into my belly.
i beat them up with analysis and words.
they beat me up with their incessant insistence and gripping claws of death.

but today - because i stared it down yesterday with all the bravery my mustard sweater could, well...muster,
and just when it was beginning to end me,
it culminated into the most fundamental alchemic formula.
and i finally had an answer.

sheepish, childlike, chastised by the sheer simplicity of it;
my internal matriarch obese with the wisdom of her years.
i hear her tone.

can you imagine? me? me! the know it all - the "i know myself so well?"
i didn't even know i was hurt.
sometimes my analytic nerosis numbs those senses.
(and it's such a highly-evolved and clever defence mechanism, don't you think?)
i foolishly think i can counsel myself out of pain.
not so.
not so.
it MUST be STARED DOWN, felt, embraced...
and then bandaged with the most adorable and whimsical little band aid.
mine is called Maker's Mark.

so over a bottle, i have a date with my resentment.
i will sit with my soul, stare down my skin through the empty glass
all the way to bottom,
and exsponge the poison - suck out the disease of bitterness like a leech.

and though i cannot stomach (or should i say "liver") this just yet,
even the thought has brought the hint of release to the knot of obsession and anxiety.
i can tell.
i can feel it already.


something funny is happening with my vestiments.
i am putting together outfits that i always used to talk myself out of.

today, por ejemplo.
i, me, moi...for the FIRST time in history, wore TWO necklaces. I could tell that one looked WAY better than wearing the two, but something inside me screamed to wear both.

"Alright already, sheesh...I will wear both," I patronized.

Apparently, the wee little one inside needed to feel:
-like she was just a bit too much.

i released two.
i wore two.
oh the poetic symmetry.

coffeetea cold yet?
mine is.
fetch me a warm up, will ya ol' chap?

you're great company,

You Might Also Like