Sunlight

It’s beautiful outside, sun shining down, melting snow and hardly a cloud in the sky.  It’s too bad because I can’t seem to enjoy it for more than a couple minutes before some other part of me takes over that’s angry at the little bunnies and squirrels and birdies that are fully taking advantage of the day’s warmth.  I’ve been angry at the world because there is anger going on inside my head. I’ve pictured some sort of apparatus in there. I keep thinking that the ball will run its course down the corkscrew, light a match by flipping a switch, and cause enough steam to fill the balloon that the needle pops it.  The balloon pops and I am thrown back on track.  Back to optimism.  Back to happiness.  Back to energetically challenging life.  But I read a quote a few minutes ago in a blog post entitled Random Thoughts On Living Authentically In Artificial Times that set something afire within me…

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The person who posted this quote on their blog is decidedly a free spirit in the most traditional terms.  She’s a sexual, passionate, complex, lovely person who has an artistic bent and rejects convention whenever possible.  Lately, I am none of these things.  My muse is gone and she left broken glass from the window she shattered upon her escape at my feet.  These shards are the carpet of my daily walk.  Much like those who have suffered a “living death” before me, I didn’t even realize that my soul had become torn and tattered in the process. I’ve closed my heart off from the world, from the people I love and the places that stir something in me.  I’ve walked blindly on, blood-stained and splintered, until I feel like I can’t take another step.  To think, I’ve almost let them win.  But the ball did spin on down, strike the match and blow up a big old balloon inside my head that woke me up.  “No more walls,” she says.

I’m coming alive as I write this, I can feel the spring going back into my step.  I can feel the fog lifting, the anger settling, the electricity of my being, the sparking synapses.  I am transforming into something marvelous in my mind and that transformation won’t be stopped.  A spirit drifted through the doorway and sat down beside me at the table.  I’ve gathered the folds of her gown, felt their cool softness upon my cheek and smelled her scent in the air.  She is home.  I am awake. I am alive.

Onwards and upwards we go.

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