Another pic of the back.
I’ve had one of those temperamental sorts of weekends. The kind that tests all of your limits from the most basic of functions to the most complex of relationships. The kind that makes you unsure of who you are, or where you’re coming from, or where you’re heading, even if this time you thought you knew that much more. That’s the kind of weekend I’ve had. Without going on about it, or appearing like a strung out hippy freak, I’ve been on a vision quest. And while the other members of my party had a beautiful experience full of light and wonder, what I experienced was more a test of survival than anything else. I’ve been beaten down badly, and it was only so that I could be rebuilt again.
I have many fears in life, although I wish that I had few. I often think about death and suffering and pain and how to live a long life while avoiding all of the above. I often think about how lucky I’ve been and how that must mean my luck is about to run out. And while I’ve been reading self help books to help me vibrate more positively, I often think about how I don’t do just that, and how I don’t deserve what I want or what I’ve been offered. And this weekend it was all thrown in my face and handed back to me in the harshest of ways.
And now, I’m trying to rebuild what was torn out of me. Some great things are happening to help me move me along, but still I’ve spent the past few nights in tears thinking about just what I need to do to change how I feel. And it’s affecting my life in some not so great ways. I’m not committed to being here, in the space that’s been provided for me, and instead I’m out in the middle of nowhere, even while I wander through the heart of it all, and I can’t seem to find the right space.
But I think when I do finally come back, I will be stronger and better than before. I think when I come back, it will be like my bat mitzvah, when I graduate into being a woman. One with confidence and strength and the power and ability to stand on her own. No matter what. See, not that long ago a strange, prophetic cabbie told me that a “sickness was leaving my body”; and while I harped on what sickness might mean, I failed to hear what he was saying. After this weekend, I finally hear him.
I might have been deaf, but now I’ve cleaned out my ears. This is really only the beginning. And for the first time, I’m ready.