life script

no reason to fight. something liberating about it. move on and write my life. not bound by past mistakes. i'm free to make my own path. freedom somehow is a necessity for me. i can't be bound by parameters or expectations. i draw my own path, straying or following or resting. not worried anymore. accepting. i am water. flowing. i am wave in water. eternal. i am moving constantly changing constantly strengthening deepening peacepeacepeace. i am searching, lapping new shores, tasting new soil, seeing new and glorious light.

i love the way the sun slanted this evening...golden and basking and glorious. the slant of autumn. the glow of tinted leaves flittering to the ground in sparkles, the crowning, saturating colors of change. the berries orange in dripping clusters. the clouds swollen and swift and bearing warmth along the wind. the light creeps away to rest. winter is not death, winter is rest and dreaming. winter is the sleep of the year and we mistake rest with her sister death. but death is only rest and reincorporation. death is life eternal, death is the chance to be everything at once split into atoms and elements scattered to the winds. death is only the pause between the breaths. death is nothing to fear.

i am not worried. i am not afraid. i am, of course, far from death's embrace, but even here i do not tremble. no, my soul or my flesh will continue to breathe and pause, continue to crest and sink like the waves. i am water i am air and earth and fire and spirit i am goddess incarnate or the spark of her kiss to the earth. i am sister and lover and mother and daughter. i am free and wild and wind-swept. i am ashes in the river, ashes in the wind. i am tears and tumbling laughter. i am the moon full radiance in my eyes. i am falcon. i am empty. i am peace.

i breathe. i feel. i open myself. i feel the light within expand and course my veins and set alight my eyelids. i feel my soul expand within. I become all that ever is. i see the petals drift down stream i feel the wind. i am alive. eternally.

limits

when i moved into my dorm in college, i created a divergent life from my mother. i wanted to keep myself separate for a reason. no mother should know all the details of her child's life. and there's some liberating element in the certainty of mother not knowing.

so when my mom finds my facebook page, because i've naively neglected to set those limits to keep her from finding it, she slips through the keyhole. she finds things i don't want her to find. and though nothing she finds is necessarily damaging, i can't stand the idea of her reading what i write. i started a new blog because she found my old one. i use fake names to keep her from tracing me. though i love her, she doesn't need to have unlimited access to my life. even what i put on the internet falls under the parameters of privacy.

i have limits. and i need her to stay well outside of them.

consideration

i know nothing for certain. and though it chafes, i'm slowing down to learn instead of rushing. i do not know what i will learn, or where i am going, but the process brings armfuls of joy. blessed be.

cute

he thinks my rebellion is "cute." i don't know how to take that. mostly because it's not an attempt to be "cute," but to assert my independence of mind. it's central to me, but it's "cute" to him. on the other hand, perhaps "cute" is his way of saying he supports me. he finds my actions attractive. perhaps he doesn't recognize the demeaning connotation of "cute."

to me, "cute" implies that i'm not serious. that i'm only rebelling to attract attention. frivolity. how adorable! you're speaking your mind! i'll just humor you - it's so like playing dress up and going to the store to show off. get it out of your system, and then you can go back to being normal. he ascribes my actions to the influence of high schoolers, to my rather innocuous adolescence. so "rage, rage" amounts to a temper tantrum.

i have to allow him some leeway, though; he's trying to navigate blind.

i don't want to be "cute." i don't want to be humored and coddled. i want him to recognize the struggle that has led to these decisions. he's brushing it aside like all my actions are a phase i'm going through. because i'm reading all that feminism stuff. this is, for me, the core of myself, and he's LAUGHING at it! belittling it.

i guess all he can do is hang on and hope. i'm not who i was 6 years ago. or, at least i've adequately subverted myself enough for 6 years to make this change pretty startling. he doesn't understand me, not the way he needs to, and given the nature of his influences, i'm sure he won't. his dad likes his mom because she's a spitfire, but that's also "cute," not to be taken seriously all the time. so damn smug. i don't think he intends to come across that way. i know he respects and loves rosie. but as a person to be preserved and protected, not truly as an equal. and we allow ourselves to be treated this way. so the "cuteness" of it still comes across, not the seriousness.

he demeans it. strips me of my uniqueness. so "rage, rage" becomes a demonstration of futility. like those mice. maybe i'll stop fighting if i realize it's just not worth it. i won't be taken seriously.

new moon

new moon, new beginnings, new horizons. stepping into the shadows with a candle flame flickering. there's something tingling beneath my fingertips aching to be embraced; a realization that has lingered outside of my reach for years because i have been too afraid to step toward it. afraid to enter a place unfamiliar. but now it brushes my skin like breezes with kisses of autumn. the promise of cool and change and rest.

beliefs, faiths, religions, myths all spiral around each other. some rarely accept the truth that they are created of the same material - the human yearning for commune with divinity. with the trust of a child i naively accepted for years the primacy of one religion above all others. i struggled to force my experiences and aches within the confines of that religion since that was what was expected of me. but every few years i would begin to writhe in my skin; it never felt right. the most agonizing process was accepting and moving out of the comfort of my childhood religion. i began to search, to learn as much as i could about other religions, myths, faiths - and realized i had been blind. the threads of divinity weave a fabric so complex, so intricate that no one path can complete it.

i am irresistibly drawn to the night, to the moon, to the stars. my spirit is intertwined with the seasons and the sunlight. my soul breathes life. in the spring i long to grow wild with the tender and dauntless green. in summer i bask in sunlight flickering through breeze-tossed leaves. in autumn i crave change and marvel at the slanting golden light, the harvested fields seeming to revel in rest, the gradual and glorious colors blazing in the trees, the gift of chill so tantalizing to the skin. in the winter i drink the frigid air and dance among the snowflakes. the earth sleeps and gathers strength.

these i understand. these miracles garner my praise.

i'm not interested in the might of a warrior God, or the vicious spite of a rule-laden headmaster. i'm not interested in piety. or perfection. i rejoice instead in a living God - a God who teaches through experiences and not through rules; a God who is not a man's man alone, but unified in creation with his lover; a God who understands beyond human perspectives; a God who understands the power of a woman and doesn't silence her; a God who delights in me and my search for truth; a God who doesn't judge.

who needs a judgmental God when humans are judgmental enough?

so i am setting ablaze all i used to know. my old churches and the parametered god they pretend to know. the rules and the well-intentioned proscriptions. i am a solitary, a priestess, a rogue mystic. an earth child.

who i am depends entirely on these preconceptions. in the blaze, i'm burning myself away.