I know what I need to do, what I have been missing. Why I have been so sad. I haven’t been breathing. I haven’t been present. I’m rushing through the chores of the day trying to get somewhere, attain something. But when I’m on my knees scrubbing the floor in the kitchen I ask myself, for what do you want to be remembered by? And then my throat catches and my heart catches and the whole net tightens. I have forgotten my gift. I didn’t think I was allowed it. Let me go there.
Forget all the to-dos, all the posturing and pretending and trying to make it work. Let yourself feel it. I want to be (myself) an author, a writer, to be known as such and appreciated as such. I’m so many things, and yet nothing but this. I was born with this gift, born with this ability to see what I love and put it into words, capture it, a box full of memories, books full of time, frozen. Page upon page of this excruciatingly beautiful, desperate, heart-breaking dream called life.
I’m finding my way back, through the hustle and bustle of other people’s dreams, the glittering distractions and the mud caked ones too. I’m slowing down. I know when I’m flat and bored and clutching at straws, that I need to go back. I need to return to my love, this love. Oh I have created so many distractions from it. Gatherings and cookings and parentings and meetings and cleanings and studyings. All I need to do is sit here and type.
My heart. I am here. (And then I read all your comments on my previous post and I’m sobbing hot tears of gratitude and relief. How did I ever leave this, this work, this play?)
Because I let other people’s expectations roll over me. I let my yearning for partnership take me over. I focused my lens on manifesting all that I had dreamt of, and I’ve arrived. I have made it. I am here. Now what? Oh yes, that thing you love to do but never make time for? That thing that has fallen to the bottom of the laundry basket? Oh, that thing, that beloved thing. Each day passes and I wonder what I could have done better. I’m filling the bath again and thinking, wasn’t I just here a moment ago, filling the bath at the end of a day? What did I do today that fed my soul? Why am I so hungry?
Time is passing, and I’m kidding myself that there are other things I’d rather be doing. For year’s I’ve pushed this gift aside and focused on developing some other skills. As if I didn’t want this gift, as if it wasn’t mine.
It is time. Time to reclaim this worn tome, this thumb-rubbed blanket that I used to sleep with, dream with, cuddle up and love with. This gift of mine. I’m opening the box where I stored you and it’s as if I see you with new eyes. How did I ever live without you? How much I have to tell you. Let us begin again. My heart, my soul, my only. I’m home. Now what? Words, more words! I will dance with you, and love you back to life.