(Written November 12, 1988)
By holding on to hate, focusing on those objects of anger, I tie myself to the past. But denying the anger as well did not work, because I was tied just as much, without knowledge, unable to escape the chains.
By moving through the anger and hurt, I am freed – freed to live in the present and look forward to the future. Savoring each day and each just more rich experience. To feel the power of the lion, rather than the rage of the tiger.
Yet, paradox once again. I am returning; returning to a realm of almost forgotten knowledge, awareness. Of the time when I had what I am. I knew what I know now.
Who I am, what I want, what I want to do.
To know the incredible sweetness of the spiritual flow of words from my pen to paper. Feeling at that time empowered by God, blessed, enriched, in harmony with life, embracing my destiny, fully myself, not a role or what someone else wishes of me, joyful, hopeful, expectant.
Knowing – that I am to have a special someone. Someone I don’t know and cannot describe, but who will, with perfect divine order fit my needs and meet my needs – all those that can be fulfilled by a lover.
Aware of and accepting the limitations of that relationship. Not teenage fantasy of being everything, each day flawless and goodness and goo, but commitment – I love you when I don’t like you, when you leave your socks on the floor, when you need space and I need to be held.
The mundane of bills to be paid, stubbed toes and egos, upsets and in-laws, shopping and ironing, the IRS.
But even so, more comfortable together than alone, comfortable in silence, enjoying going to movies, walks on the beach, exploring the wildflowers, expanding each other, seeking God together.
I at my computer, composing, concentrated, enveloped in creativity; she respectful of it, yet not waiting for my return, sitting and toe tapping, but also enrapt in her own world, developing, growing, blooming. Then free to return to togetherness, sharing the growing. No fear – of leaving, because at last we are not runners. The need to leave for a time – to walk amid trees separately – brings no fear of abandonment, because the commitment brings freedom and the knowing of return. The steward of each other’s solitude.
A return also to the full awareness of my spiritual richness. The ability to transmit warmth and safety. So that cats and small children feel safe to draw near, are attracted to the warmth. Aware that I think of someone and they – if they are a kindred spirit, receive and know of my thoughts. Knowing the joy of looking across a room at someone facing the other way, sending a silent message saying “I love you;” they turn, look, then smile at me – she doesn’t know why, but I do.
Having healed the wounds, yet never losing the scars, knowing that I understand those who have been at war, and those who have stood in an old Western town in the middle of a dusty, lonely street, facing an opponent with a gun.
Aware of the incredible paradox of being a boxer with a killer instinct who can also craft fine poetry, play sweet music, wishes no harm to others. This too, is my destiny. I cannot escape it, but as I embrace it, though it has its own special sadness, I become more fully me.
Feeling so harmonious with God that at long last I am able to follow God, blind as a newborn puppy, having shed the everpresent why, relaxed and expectant through the unknowing. Knowing that when I know not what to do I will be shown. That I cannot describe that special someone, but God can and is gently, firmly, leading me to her.
Knowing full well the gratitude and deep humility of the time when with all the efforts, willingness and surrender, I stood before Him not knowing what in me was broken, yet knowing it was, and He showed it to me, even in my hour of deepest defeat, and released me of it. The hour pride was killed. the realm of miracles.
Knowing that this hour is a beginning, a fresh start, all will be brought to fruition. As I most fully claim the many talents I possess, I have not to battle against the old pride, because the brand of humility has been so deeply burned into my soul. By grace I am alive and know. By grace has the tiger been silenced.
So to joy, to experience, to fulfillment, the pen flows more freely, the words leap into congruence, wisdom, insight, harmony, in an everchanging simplicity.
I even look different. The eyes, open, wide, childlike. The brow no longer furrowed, arms uncrossed, shoulders relaxed, loosely smiling, radiant with love. yet through the anger the boundaries – you have your space, but leave me mine. The balance.
Always the balance. Maintaining harmony. Celebration. No hurry, no rushing to finish one even to be on to the next. The celebration is in the moment. So now to joy.
I wrote this piece in 1988, but hadn’t read it in almost 20 years. I found it, almost by accident, when I was looking through files for things to post on my blog site. I was astonished by the voice I heard speaking to me through this piece. In the early ’80s I read a book entitled “The Bridge Across Forever,” by Richard Bach. In that book, Richard from 20 years in the future came and talked to Richard in his present time, and told him things about his future. It was written metaphorically – you thought, but you weren’t sure.
When I read Celebration, I had that eerie sensation that I’d had a similar experience to Richard Bach in his book. The things I said in this piece could have been written today, and were infinitely more true about me today than back then. In 1988, I was 15 years away from even beginning to see the impact my grandmother had in my life and the abusive seeds she had planted in me at age 8. Those events directly locked up my creativity for many, many years. The publication of the book I wrote entitled “Freedom’s Just Another Word,” brought those issues to the surface, and broke the back of those old wounds with Grandma. Which freed me to be where I am today!
I embrace Celebration as a statement of my present!