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Unfolding Reality
(posted July 28, 2010)
It seems, once again, the universe outside
has managed to slip from the bow that I tied.
Where once, oh so neatly, things were defined,
now lies upheaval, and debris left behind.
“How did this happen?” I fuse and I fume.
My life seemed so tidy when I last left the room.
But as soon as I pulled the door shut behind me,
all hell broke loose, things slipped from their bindings.
And all that I once held as safe and known,
with gusto and drama, out the window was blown.
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Painted hands by Kathryn and granddaughter Jayla
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So, once again, I pick through clutter and debris,
as I search, in vain, for that trusty old me,
when life was comfy, and all sorted out,
neatly sifted into piles, little room for doubt.
With edges all blurry and images shifting,
the beliefs I once held, to and fro begin drifting.
And all that I once held as absolute and True
seems one-size-too-small as I try on the new.
And I chuckle out loud as the truth slowly dawns,
The world is the same, but I have moved on.
So I pack up my ego and mark “handle with care,”
as I set out in search of the new me out there.
My footsteps sound hollow as I step into the night.
The path dimly lit by the glow of my light,
a light that shines brighter as I reach to grasp
the truth in this moment, releasing the past.
The Nightingale's Song
(posted July 22, 2010)
WHEN I WAS young I felt grateful my parents knew all the answers: That color is yellow; a cow says ‘moo;’ this is how to tie your shoes. My world was a comfortable blanket, so small I could reach out and touch all its edges.
In my teens I joked that when my father wanted my opinion he told me what it was. I invested considerable energy rebelling like a stubborn two-year old. I stood up straight, folded my arms across my chest and stared back with an unflinching gaze. Each time I was told 'it's for your own good’ my inner child silently screamed, "Try to make me."
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During my twenties I began to earnestly search for my own answers. Sometimes I liked what I discovered about others and about myself. Other times I was left with a vague feeling of uneasiness. Of not really seeing as clearly as I wanted or hoped to.
Then I hit my know-it-all thirties. I was certain I knew all the answers and, for that matter, all of the questions. I shared my wisdom with everyone. On every topic. All the time. I considered myself to be immortal, indomitable, and wise beyond my years.
When I entered my forties my bubble of self-importance burst. All my bravado whooshed out like the hot air it was. I was left to face the brutal truth: I had been seeking the answers to other people’s questions, without asking my own. Those burning deep within my heart, longing to break their vows of silence. I suddenly felt confined, restricted. As though my one-size-fits-all view of life had been washed in hot water and shrunk. When I tried to put it on, it felt too small. Much too small.
This realization was both reassuring and terrifying. If the world was not as others had mapped it then what was it? Where did I fit in? And how was I going to figure all this out?
I felt driven to commit the ultimate act of rebellion—to begin thinking for myself. This opened the door for an unexpected visit from Rebellion’s twin sister, Responsibility. If I no longer accepted others’ beliefs as my moral compass, where would I look for guidance? The answer dawned slowly: I would have to look within. In short, I needed to own responsibility for my life and what I made of it.
What? No one but myself to blame? To rail against? To resist? The answers were swift and brutal: No. No. And no.
Having entered my fifties, I now see there was a time—a very long time, I might add—when I yearned to be acknowledged by others. To have them applaud my successes and mourn my losses. But I have grown to appreciate the greater satisfaction of acknowledging myself. Each morning I greet my reflection in the mirror and ask, "Who are you today?"
Oddly, the days when no immediate answer surfaces are the ones I like best. There’s something about swimming in the Sea of Not Knowing that feels quite liberating. I can hold up each thought or belief floating by and ask, “Are you right for me today?”
There have been times when I found an answer and clung to it like a life preserver. I allowed myself to be lured into a feeling of not needing to look farther. I even decided to step out of the Sea of Not Knowing. But the beliefs I thought were firm ground tended to shift over time, running through my toes like grains of sand. I became wobbly, uncertain, and inevitably fell flat on my face.
It was time to jump back into the pool of questions.
Now, I willingly immerse myself and swim through the noise and chatter of the world. Beyond the 'shoulds' and 'musts' and absolutes, into the murky darkness of the unknown. As my mind quiets and my breathing slows I begin to hear the pure, clear melody my soul sings like a nightingale in the darkness. "A little deeper," it gently beckons. "Come in a little deeper."
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