Well done burnt bridge.

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For a long time, I have fought a battle that can never be fully voiced. It can never be laid out on a table for all to see. It is a private war. I have danced around it in my blog, written about hard-won skirmishes, and weary defeats. It’s a sort of thing that I have treated alternately with a delicate hand and a closed fist.

Its presence is exasperating, like an annoying mosquito that won’t quit buzzing around.

No matter what I have done to abolish it (think on it, write about it, fight it, silence it, meditate on it, drink, eat), or didn’t do (let it be, accept it) it has had me chained to a merry-go-round. I, a colorful filly with great stems raised, ready to gallop, but unable to.

Recently, I burned the bridge to the battlefield that I alone had maintained. It was done with confidence, and without intention of returning to the precipice pleading for the link to be restored.

But, the ego is fearful. It knows I am stronger, and it bombards me with thoughts and questions, and the same old worn out lines. The crackled movie on a fading loop starring the old witch opposite Snow White, except my apple gift is dented, and browned.

What is it afraid of? I think on it….and have to laugh a little because I simply don’t know.

I have everything I need inside and out!

It could have been a sad thing to burn that bridge, but by deciding to stop the fight; I am forced to face the truth.

And the truth is acknowledging the dark side of self; specifically emotions such as anger, aversion, and dislike. No more sweet frosting. No more battles. No more black and white, or tussles between good and bad. This is it; the beginning of true healing begins with the belief that negative feelings are as much a part of self as the positive. In this way, the ego has little left to live for, and that’s what it’s afraid of.

Without the dark, there can be no light. And, the more I calmly let in the dark that’s practically barging down my front door, the sooner I will be free of these shackles.

 

 

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Ten

Our tenth wedding anniversary approaches. We’ve been through some very tough times, I think to myself frequently. I also say it out loud a lot. Perhaps to remind myself just how far we’ve come. Verbalizing the memories brings a crack to my voice, and tears are apt to fill my eyes. On the heels of the statement, like flapping coattails, I also know that many, many couples go through hard times in their relationships – illness, financial worries, death, uncertainty, knocks from left and right, rugs pulled so swiftly as to leave a couple knocked onto their asses.

Sometimes it’s unthinkable the things that happen.

I spent many years assigning blame; pointing fingers at family members (one of which I’m not sad to admit, is probably broken beyond repair), my husband included. I always tried to divert the pointing away from him because I knew how hard he was working and how he suffered for our little family but it was there all the same, shouting into the vast silences, or picking and niggling out of my mouth without any remorse.

At our lowest, at our most far apart, and when he left for work, often it felt as blank as closing the door on an empty house. In another room, I would become aware of his leaving, and feel floundered but at the same time I didn’t care. We could be in the same room but the balance of our relationship had shifted so that we couldn’t relate to one another. We didn’t know how to navigate the waters together so we stumbled angry, haughty, and defensive through the turmoil. Each of us aware of the other but too stubborn, or we didn’t know how, or just didn’t want to make the effort, to reach out and tap the other on that cold shoulder. Fearing rejection? Fearing taking the first step? Fearing the hard battle to right things?cebc9807e533ca803f1ad0072b52ccc4

Visually speaking, I see the journey like a scab, which isn’t appealing but then again, marriage has its hard, dark side. The deeply wounded part of our journey; stuck and welting red under the hardened skin I could liken to our worst four years. As the scab gets better around the outside, the sore becomes lighter and stronger. The skin is thin, and tenuous but pinker. As the edges spread, the scab is no longer needed because the skin has become firmer, more solid.

These have become good years. We still struggle somewhat, but there’s an honesty and humor that wasn’t there before. It appears that we have sailed the storm, both with the same destination and we have arrived together to sunnier shores.

I love my husband with all my heart and I have no regrets about anything I have done or said in the last six years (and I have done and said some not-so-good things) because without all the experiences, the challenges, the hardship, the sadness, the shame, the silence,  we would still be skating on the surface. Holding hands and smiling, sure, but without the deep knowledge that can be seen in the quickest of glances.

That said, I would not want to relive it!

Challenging the dark side.

“When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all your thoughts break their bonds: Your mind transcends limitations, your consciousness expands in every direction, and you find yourself in a new, great, and wonderful world. Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive, and you discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.”
– santiz Patanjali

I yoinked this from fellow blogger, starrystez. Thank you.

Just let it sink in.

Remember a time when you embarked on something, a project or new endeavour that excited you, made it so that you could almost feel the very cells in your body tingle with anticipation. I felt that way when I saw my actors at the very first rehearsal perform the play I had written. Not the read-through; when we began to block movement and discuss emotion. The act of seeing in front of me that which I had written, come to life, made me come alive inside with a tense, jangled enthusiasm.

It’s safe to say that that play is the one piece of creativity born from my own mind that has seen a beginning and an end. I have many ideas whirling around in my head but none that I can grasp and collect and piece together into anything with potential. My computer at home has a dozen, if not more stories that have been started with a flourish and grand idea but never made it past the first or second chapter.

I’ve been working on a book lately that expands on the play I wrote but now it feels trite and silly. It hasn’t any character development. It has a beginning, middle and an end yet gradually, it has become a plodding one-note effort. I’m bored with it. It has ceased to excite me and unfortunately, will probably end up on the cyber shelf next to all the others.

However there is a dark, whispery thought that has beckoned over the past year. I’m not sure if there’s a trigger for it’s timeliness but it seems to be calling a little louder each time. It happened during my drive to work this morning, ironically after I marvelled at the loveliness of the sun’s rays shooting to earth through the clouds. I do a lot of that these days; looking for beauty in nature wherever I am, it makes my heart sing.

Anyway, the thought…a murmur really…to dive into the dark side. It’s not a place I’ve been comfortable to go in the past, mainly because of that silly mindset that if you imagine something awful happening, it actually will. Like when you call in sick because what you really want to do is go to the beach but within a day or two, you actually do fall ill, that sort of thing. Perhaps I am hearing the call with a clarity I haven’t known because I am more in tune with myself and aware that the dark side is as much a vibrant possibility as the “light” side. I am no longer afraid of acknowledging it.

The dark side is very deep and shadowy, like most people’s. It’s the watery harbour for those things you want to say, those things you want to do but by their very nature, go against every moral and ethical code. For the situations you think of that perhaps only see the dim light of your craziest dreams. Scary things. Terrible, terrifying things. Opposing situations that if you considered to bring them to the light of day, would leave cracks in your psyche that could eventually become wider and deeper until those harbour walls crumbled, its blocks of stone splashing into the murky water one by one until the demon in you was unleashed and there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

That’s the call and if I heed it, I will have to go further and go deeper than I have attempted before. I will have to commit to writing something wretched and gasping that’s been scraped off the sides of a dark, earthy pit. It feels like a giant snake stuck in a deep well, circling with a cruel patience and when I finally allow myself to succumb without fear, it will uncoil itself and up it will come. And all that I want to say will rise up with it. I will feel just like that saying above.

All my thoughts will break their bonds. My consciousness will expand in every direction.

Lisa…