A gaping hole of loss and sorrow sits inside of me- a soft, heavy knot, waiting, waiting… The flurry of messes, children, study, deadlines, pressures and chores allow me, in spurts, to cruise along and ignore the hole- and I can even forget about it for periods of time- but when I least expect it or am prepared to deal with it, it rears its head and eviscerates me, leaving me a pile of wet ashes in the corner.
I am running. When I am running, I am afraid. Afraid I will let myself down. Afraid that past patterns of neglectful personal behavior are so strong in their gravity I cannot escape them any more than a star can chose a new place in the galaxy. God can move mountains, and it shows my gossamer vulnerability that dark fears cast long fingered shadows on my faith. I know better. Yet it zeros in with precision on the soft white underbelly of my soul.
So I keep running. I have to. The only difference is, now I think I am beginning to understand. I am beginning to notice, as I notice outside the flurry and pain for brief moments, that what I have always done in the past no longer serves me, and I must, once again, dig deep and take a long, honest look at myself. It’s like trying to stand on a ball- you have only the barest glimmer of a moment of perfect balance, before you are once again thrown off, using all your might to find that place of stillness again. Only memory guides the yearn for balance- and memory is a tricky thing.
My mind an insatiable black hole, so severe in it’s gravity it devours anything that comes near, and emitting a seemingly unending fountain of invisible radiation back into space. You can’t see it, but it’s needs devour and overtake everything. Only recently have I realized this- and with that realization came the notion that maybe, just maybe, my mind doesn’t really rule my world. Maybe there is wisdom in my body, in my heart, as well. Wisdom that is overshadowed by the unending noise generated from above.
My head wants to be entertained, but my heart is still and quiet. My mouth wants a party of tastes and textures, but my belly is full and needs nothing. My eyes want to drive, but my arms and legs are the vehicle. It’s deceptive and frightening how the intellectual noise completely shouts out the wisdom of the body.
So I’ve got some work to do. I’ve got some knots to unravel, and some radiation to redirect. I’m okay. Ironically, I’m actually more okay than I’ve been in a long time…
9 thoughts on “Wipe the Floor with Me”
what a wise and beautiful statement. respect to you for seeing so clearly how far you’ve come and where you still need to travel.
(oh goodness, I thought your twitter feed said Bean had pOOped in your slip n’ slide–which is how it would have gone down at my house.)
Sometimes it takes really gritty life happenings for us to learn the stuff we’re really here to learn. Sorry it’s such a painful experience, but I’m glad you’re learning as you go.
I’m confused. Is this a crisis of faith you’re having?
W- no, not at all. Trying to write about something difficult to grasp, even for me in my own head. Clearly I didn’t do a great job. Learning and navigating my world as it changes.
Oh, yes, I recognize this. The running. The fear, the avoiding, the hiding, the running.
I have two recurrent dreams. The first is me running but getting nowhere and the second is me flying everywhere. When I’m healthy, the flying dream is my secret, special gift. Unfortunately, the running dream has been my sleep companion far too often, especially lately.
I wish for you a flying dream.
You are a beautiful writer. Even thought I don’t know you, I had to de-lurk to tell you that. Even with all your struggles, and trying to do everything you have to do, those emotions and thoughts come out, and you write them here, and it’s beautiful, and honest. Thoughts and prayers coming your way.
Thank you for sharing this and yourself Tracy.
We are all blessed because of you…
“My head wants to be entertained, but my heart is still and quiet. My mouth wants a party of tastes and textures, but my belly is full and needs nothing. My eyes want to drive, but my arms and legs are the vehicle. It’s deceptive and frightening how the intellectual noise completely shouts out the wisdom of the body.”
Holy Moley, Tracy! I’m printing that in a fancy font and hanging it somewhere where I can read it again and again.
Why Jami, I think that’s the first time I’ve been told someone was doing that with something I wrote. Namaste, my friend.
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