Unrelinquished

Tidied up the pile of empty wrappers, found a note I regretted forgetting and fished a wriggling ladybug from the paint-water. Wait a few minutes for the tea, relax an aching wrist and forearm. One of those lonely, dangerous days, when life is a shadow of what it could be, when eyes and teeth are extensions of a tattered state; biting and looking about, rimmed in dull red, impatient.

When ill, all life is a poignant exercise in experiencing - each littered moment a metaphor. As I struggle to allow myself to exist, life blares forth around me, clamoring into the foreground, numbing my effect upon it.

Felt different now for about a year. A year long voyage across the sea, the rough weather breaking only in intervals, while the bulk of the voyage progresses in one long tightening swell of remorse and despair. By shaking waves, but ebb and flow, I’ve undergone a sea change. Dinged and polished at once, in the refining yet wearing dance the ocean currents preform, tossed, uplifted and pulled down under the great weight of watery being. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to open all this up, reveal it and look plainly upon it, but I’m here now, and I feel like I have to regard it.

Taken aback by how much I still search for acceptance and recognition from others. This gnawing for recognition, for attention on my own terms, for praise I can understand, for qualities I myself choose to cultivate, for the person I have decided I am. Friendship I am just waking up to, compassion for myself a peaceful shrine to a pilgrim just beyond her door, and the blessing of help available at my fingertips if only frightened lips would dare part to ask for it. Usually, I feel all alone, and this along with many other limited perspectives that have become reality, must begin to fade. Everyday I choose again to allow myself to exist; let Love guide me, let me ever again decide to turn my face to It’s endless Justice, for I am allowed to remain here by It, and I must not give up on that which Love had not relinquished either.

Decide, and begin anew

Part of me assumes that one day, I’ll walk into the woods and lay my body, exhausted finally from the hurt and struggle, down into the leaves, and release myself from mortality. In ending, singing at last the song I’ve murmured through my life, releasing with life the best of myself. Able to escape at last, able to express itself in a final gasp, a secret melody liberated. And I, free from the need to work it out with my own two hands, free from the pressure of something burning inside. Something whose intricacy my fingers flail against and in myriad media, scratch out echos of what it could be, what it longs to be. Tired of all these, she lays her head upon the fallen leaves, each a whisper, each a piece of what could have been. Then she begins to dream. Wandering away from the noises of the past, and she finds the dying day beautiful beyond imagination, filling her eyes still she closes them, and a great Love travels straight to her heart. A few more paintings to go, a better dance step, an artful pile of unwashed dishes: life beckons once more with the softest of touches, lingering in the sensitive hollows of my body, holding me here, for as long as here lasts, like the fading sundown. Each cloud calling out in harmony to the beauty of living; a chorus of birthing yells, a giving of every effort in order to realize something new, something inexpressibly beautiful. Tired of all these, she sent her body to the forest to die, and instead, sent her heart back to the Creator, and chose to walk a while, while the light lasts, while the Sun lingers, while beauty and Grace still far outnumber her troubles.

Digital art "Surrender" by myself