When it Rains

When it rains, I’ll cry too.
When it’s torrential and the wind blows, I will weep, and sob and shudder.
When it storms and the wind drives the trees from their roots, I will fall on my knees and join them.
I will wail and moan like a Banshee, I will pound the ground with my fists, I will claw at the earth and break my nails in the mud.
When mother nature sends her best I will spread my arms and look to the skies and scream.
Many questions that deserve answers.
But to one there is none.
Why.
I will not wait for answers. Could not hear them anyway.
I will collapse on the ground.
I will dig myself in. Plant myself.
I will be still. I will be a rock.
I will fall quiet.
The water will wash over me.
The waters can drench me. Tear my clothes from me. My hair will cloak me and my soul would never abandon me.
The water will wash over me and I will stay. The water will pool around my knees and still I will stay. The water will creep up around my neck and still I will stay. The water will nip the tip of my nose and I will raise my head and catch a glimpse of myself on the shore.
I will stand up.
I am scared and alone and I will make my way over to her. The water will rush at me begging me to stay. I will reach out to her in desperation, with trepidation.
The water will wash over me. I am lost. Will she help me? Can she?
When it floods the rivers will swell and the banks will come
up to greet me and take it all away.
The filth. The black. The empty.
The water will wash me.
I will be clean.
When the clouds shift and the moon and stars spy me in their glow, I will feel vulnerable.
I will wonder at my smallness and gasp at the vastness of space and time.
I will feel humble.
When the sun shines I will see the glory of life all around.
I will marvel at its colours, and delight in its sounds. I will fall in love with its magic and its mystery.
I will stay until the warmth penetrates me and sets my soul on fire.
I will feel new.
And when the wind kisses a gentle breeze that caresses my cheek, I will feel loved. And when she gusts and plays with my hair I will feel embraced, and I will spread my arms and look to the skies and gesture THANK YOU!
I am reminded I am alive.
And when I catch a glimpse of myself, I will smile.
I am free.

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Brain Dump – Read at your own Risk

Struggling. Struggling. Struggling.

Struggling to keep up. Struggling to put words to paper.

Struggling to keep it in. Confused by emotions, flooding in from places long since abandoned, memories lost and found.

Today was not a bad day. It was not a horrible day. There were moments of the spilled milk variety. Apathy being the correct response since the deed is done, but more importantly since it cannot be undone.

Taking stock lately, finding myself wanting. Afraid. Afraid of success, immobilized by fear. Hating myself. Feeling weak. Getting angry. Brief moments of sun providing clarity.

Is it the weather? It has been misting a lot lately. Grey, grey, wet days. Wet ankles. Ugly boots abandoned to the spiders in the closet. Let them have at it.

Fog too, covering the mountain, like a scene out of the Hobbit, and I love them all. Mom doesn’t care much for either the fog, or the Hobbit, but I am not sure about the mountain. My body walks away from it in the direction of the bus, toward my responsibilities, toward the life I have carved out for myself, but my orbs linger behind me as long as they can, and my heart longs to walk toward it, into it, disappear, swallow me up. Only to the outside world. Once hidden inside it is sure to be a magical place of exploration, of discovery, of privacy, of solitude.

Struggling. Struggling. Struggling. To define myself. To find my place in this world. I think I want to move to America. Been thinking about it since childhood. Will she have me? What am I? Where am I headed? What do I want to do? What CAN I do? Am I a writer? An advocate? A coach? All of the above? None?

Self doubt is the school yard bully. Finding out you are the school yard bully is a nasty surprise in your peanut butter cup. Can’t really look at it the same way after that. Forever reminded. There is always a hesitation. Of trust.

Take a bite any way. A bite out of life.

Recently I watched a movie. The Book of Life. I received two messages;

1.) “He wasn’t afraid of being a bullfighter, he feared being himself.”
2.) “…anyone can die, it takes courage to live.”

From these I learned that I am afraid to be me, the whole me, and nothing but the me. I also recognized it DOES take courage to live. To put yourself out there, to risk, to love. To speak . To speak up. To speak out. To let yourself slide into those emotions good and bad. Courage to be yourself. To write, to advocate, to coach. To figure it out. Strong enough to try, n’est-ce pas?

Life is challenging. But the beauty of rising up to meet its challenges is discovering who you really are and what you’re made of.

I don’t know if I am late out the gate or not. I only know that it is time.

Mentally Me – C/P