I promise the funny in me hasn't died and made way for seriousness... the funny is just keeping me sane right now and can't be readily shared!
Today, If my suffering is the whet stone against which I sharpen my soul, then my resolve becomes only more pronounced as I struggle. I Sharpen, and sharpen... until I'm a razor with a marshmallow heart (who won't eat them because they used to be animals, the irony). But I will cut a bitch!
Good night! And I don't mean that in the southern explanatory sigh kind of way... I mean good night - I had one recently. Good intentioned, well-balanced fun that my astral and human body needed. On a level of need one can't express. I started out this weekend intending to 'live' and most people interpret that as wanting to party. Yes, but only because it heals me to do so. All I could muster for 'living' was to make cheese and to make a party.
While I'm too old to indiscriminately waste me time on some night that ends poorly... We had good friends both represented and missed this gypsy weekend. I felt surrounded by all of my spirits, the ones who would tip a glass my way regardless of their coordinates, and those who were touched enough to visit me in my foreign land when I called them up.
This week has been a strange awareness for me, a wave-break against the rocks of despair that are as familiar as happiness. It's as if someone broke a light bulb against a wall, releasing the precious transmittive gas inside to go without light into the world to someday become another person's spark - and I'm left breathless, watching it happen. Grief is funny like that, it sneaks up on you when you break things... when you're uncomfortable, when you're vulnerable... as if the soft underbelly that lines each fearsome dragon was instantly visible to all and alighted by some passing gas - as the plate falls out of your hands: HA!
Some people choose to disappear in sadness. I'd lie if I said it wasn't me, and I refuse to lie anymore, even if it means I say things that are uncomfortable. When my friends and family suffer, I suffer. When the people I love hurt, I hurt.. whether I let it happen or not. Being solid and stoic do nothing but prolong and isolate suffering. I've been sad a long time, but this week, I asked for help in my own way... appealed to the universe for mercy. And the universe replied in chorus:
Mercy to those who seek it!
But also: Pain for Those That Feel it! and Heavy Burden for Those Who May Bear!
In new ways - instantly; and again, I love the people in my life. I learned from a master that you give love, and get love... and I'm becoming fortunate enough to see the return on that investment. Finally I know what gambling feels like - giving out what you can afford, and getting back ridiculous amounts of positive work!
Thank you all for gathering around me, and seeing that even though I asked you to come and unload your burden, I really needed to unload my own. Know that if I can transmit your pain to anywhere else, I'm standing on the rooftop with a boombox shouting it! Proclaiming it, so that all of us can help! Take that, universe, it's my favorite song - played in the key of melancholy, uptempo and sung by some white chick in Texas who has an abnormally large stockpile of beans- DIG ON THAT!
Thank you for always seeing me, especially when I try to lose myself. Thank you for reminding me peace comes from within, and it starts with me.
...and thank you to the bunnies we had to bury last week (and especially to Merlin for burying them) for making me appreciate fragile-ness in every being. We live on a precipice we can't see, and I'm happy I could help carry you across. Seeing things so out of my control reminds me of my first instinct - Shepherd those who need anything I can offer, even if it won't save them. It matters that you try regardless of the outcome, the skill is not in life-saving, but in compassion. Compassion changes success.
Vive la 'gypsy weekend', vive le difference, vive la vie! Dans la musique, de l'individualisme et dans la vie, nous vivons.