a Tiny description

a full time artist, stepmother, radio personality, and mom to an energetic Chug dog, tries to get through the days without committing a felonious act. My life is a rickety Zen circus.


Friday, June 07, 2013

i get it.  i now know why prayers aren't answered all at once...why there isn't a Wait-Till-There's-Enough-In-The-Cart buildup of whispered wishes come true all at the same time...why tear-soaked pillows have no say in the matter whatsoever...because for everything to happen all at once is dizzying and destabilizing....what once was, is no longer the same...your beliefs and sense of Self get turned right 'round, baby,  which can be a good thing...but not all at once.
grief is the great clarifier.  when i picture the Grim Reaper, he has a large scythe in his hand.  i now know that this tool is for the living, for those left behind...used to clear away...nothing is left standing but the strongest of strong beliefs...the deepest inner truths.  nothing else remains - not hardness constructed as a shield, not perceived slights, not walls made of hurts and accusations and miscommunications.  it is too much to carry, too much to maintain, to reconstruct...with hands limp at your side... it is a wildfire that burns the forest and allows for new growth...tender new green from seeds scattered by the natural order of things, or from roots dug deep into the soil where they remained unharmed by the devastation.
This spring, as the buds grew fat on the trees and began their cycle of awakening... as the migrational urges brought bald eagles and golden eagles and raptors flying low over my head...as the signs of life began again, so it began within me.  through wildfire and scythe, all that remained was scorched earth...a parched heart...wheat and chaff together brought down.  and in these times while the landscape changed, when all i could do was shake my head and let the tears roll, even in these months,  i know for certain that new growth has begun...that the ashes protect the scorched earth while the tendrils of new life have begun to unfurl.  and somehow i am grateful for the clearing - grateful that my hands hang limp and no longer have to carry anything but the essential, and can begin again.  i whisper a wish that it hadn't all come at once, yet i am grateful.  i begin to fill my cart, again, with prayers, but this time i pray that i bring dignity to the lesson and not waste the effort that's gone into lining circumstances up to make this all converge at once.  I open my eyes to the trees, naked and blackened by the fire and know there will soon be a verdant forest where these shadow sticks stand.  and i receive their comfort.

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