A Good Dog
I’ve lost my yearning and lamenting. It sleeps at my feet, a good dog, old now, not so interested in intensity.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still passionate, it’s just more reasonable (smirking here. Not quite the word I’m looking for). I don’t lose myself in it, don’t get tossed away. I have a center to set sail from, and it’s still there when I come back to it. Imagine that.
Growing up, I had no solid base. I ventured out, returned to chaos. Constructing a center, from a life of fun house mirrors, was exhausting and overwhelming. Stability seemed futile. It’s one of the things I yearned for.
I married a stable man. When he leaves in the morning, he returns as he left, full of goodness and tenderness. There are no sudden hurricanes, lurking disasters, overturned tables. It’s a peaceful way to live.
I’m still a tad volatile. If a driver cuts me off, a chipmunk eats my Tulips, I have a good rant and stomp but then go back to peace, like a safe comfy chair. The truth is, I used to enjoy my irritability. It gave me a sharp edge, protected my porous heart. I was a cowgirl in ballet slippers. I hated being vulnerable. Hated needing anyone. Hated being disappointed. I decided not to care.
I can’t imagine living that way, convinced that nothing matters. I felt like a brick in a row of glass vases. How they sparkled in the sun, while I sat heavy, too dense to shine. I yearned for that too, to be light enough to shine.
I wanted to be a bird, a butterfly. Having wings must be a magical existence. I wanted to love my self, my life. I looked for mentors, I read a lot, but what healed my endless yearning, was growing my own wings.
I can’t put this in a resume, but it’s something to be proud of. I formed a solid center from the mayhem I was mired in. After all those painful years of darkness, I figured out how to shine.
LBM 3/10/2015
