Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Now it is my turn for words. What will I shape, what will spin from my fingers. A tapestry of color and texture, smooth or rough, hemmed or loose ended. An idea, a dream of a stone house. But that dream seems closer than I ever thought it could be. I can hold it in my hands, here, in a wooden house, with large grass swathes, hemmed by woods, sloped and curved and straightened. With a swing and a firepit and a forest path. Here, I can begin to give my dreams substance and shape. It feels right, being home, now. I'm not sure of the time after this work period, but Now feels Right. And this I can attribute to 12 steps being taken slowly, but with the support of those around me. Who, as I reach out to them, keep me firmly on the ladder. Who, as I let myself care about them, unknowningly are a force of love pushing me on to the next level of recovery, of Life. Because thats what it feels like. Grasping a hold on the bright and the dark of light, for longer periods of time, rather than just snatches between the fog. I must have both. TOnight, a wave of empathetic pain for my mother, understanding the pain of a mother, but accepting it from the understanding of her child, as the way it is. My brother, with his wonderful coherent words on his views. Views that my mother lived through, that I lived through, that we both understood to only bring us pain. But that she wants to stop at all cost, to help him avoid that pain. But that I understand he has to hold, and maybe continue to hold, for he is his own being, seperate from my mother and I, in order to continue on his own journey. Same with the sister. I cannot make her life easier, I cannot take away the challenges and pain she will face in growing up, anymore than I can take away the pains of my past, or the pain I know will come in my future. I can only hold on to this moment, this moment of breath, this breath, and be grateful for the joys that it holds. Beyond all pain. There is always joy. Joy in the breath itself. This is a hard concept to hold onto, especially when in the throws of confusion and fear. But I think that practicing gratitude and appreciation of joy can help one through the dark. And help one realize that the dark isn't any more real than you make it. Nothing is real. Reality is a figment. Maybe. Nothing is certain. But I am becoming aware that there is a way to serenity, that serenity does exist, and one can share it. Through love. Through compassion. Through letting go. Grateful for the space freed by not overeating, to connect and engage and reflect. In otherwords- to Live.
Posted by PSB at 11:30 PM