Odyssey

It’s a cruel blow to find out that you’ve been hiding something from yourself, perhaps for years, and that you have — intentionally, mind you — set up minefields, mazes and mirrors in order to avoid getting to the bottom of the whatever-it-is that eludes you. Not that any of this is a surprise, but I am just good enough at what I do, just skilled enough at self-discovery, to trick myself into thinking I have Done Good Work and as a result, veer off course from going deeper into what lies beneath.

A lot of the anger I feel as a result — TRICKED! — is at myself.

Self, you suck. Self, you are too good at what you do. Self, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?

I know that this is all about self-preservation. I get that. There is a layer waiting there that scares the bejesus out of me. And dammit, no one — NO ONE — is allowed to see it. Least of all me. But I have to say, I am tired of the charade. Am tired of expending what probably amounts to 90% of my energy maintaining this facade. Am tired, just tired. Can see through the mists, a little, just enough to want more.

There is a light.

I keep using the cliff metaphor — standing on a precipice, waiting to jump or fly into the unknown-but-awesome — and it totally works here. Here I am, again, at the edge of the unknown. It scares me. It beckons me. There is a promise that OH MY GOD this will be better than anything else (so far) has ever been. I know all this without a doubt. I know it and my feet keep inching forward. My heart says yes, yes, a million times yes.

I speak in metaphors. You understand that, right? I code my words here because it amuses the hell out of me to do so. I love how words slide around in their juices, warmly, wetly. Words like kisses. Words like caresses. Words like forgotten rainbows behind rain-soaked skies.

This is a time of creation, of birth. I can feel that, and I feel the life that pulsates under the moist mossy trees, neolithic ferns and flowing volcanic rocks of my twilight world. There is life beneath my feet, life within my veins, life in the drumbeat of my heart. The ancient songs call to me, calling in a song of creation. What comes next sets the scene for much to come.

Waking from the dream, breathing into being.