healing

Wellness is a process, not product bought, but earned by personal effort, aided via a number of resources. There’s times when I realize I’m not THERE yet. Rills of concern and sometimes terror, occasionally, fill my consciousness; slumping into the ground face first suffering the twitches, writhing, slings, arrows and vicissitudes doubtful I’ll ever arise.

Within this instance, rare, I began with the love of a beloved to name and see the face of myself as a boy crying gasping for air, longing to be loved, affirmed, assured. Not abandoned or ridiculed. Worse: punished for my request; simply love me, see me as I am.

Instead of being pushed off the precipice into oblivion, I am already walking on air, better able to inhabit the future since she filled the hole of despair within me with assurance. I’ve worn out the word “astonishment” there being no superlatives describing my sense of surprise; absent face time yet. For near a year we’ve been apart “Had She Said Yes” to my ejaculatory; “TAKE ME WITH YOU!”

At each turning, reversal, somersault, landing on our feet, we move towards one another more whispering within ‘yes’ becoming Lauder/louder the path mutually defined. Life and Love seem also a process renewed; frequently worked upon. An activity, love being a verb, stasis is not an option, but a living death. Everything otherwise seems ‘normal’ but it is not, since the players implode. Walking about in a dream playing prescribed roles, pretending not living.

You, me, we, all are in process. And I for one doubt that it ends in death. Ain’t nothing special in me just a sense, thought, feeling and intuition; there is more, much more. Personally, while writing this, as it flows from me, remembering my surrender to other authors, their intentions and conclusions. The narrative with a happy ending!?

Now is eternity and we scribes scribbling across it imagining what the vastness is with the narrow stylus of consciousness. Metaphorically it doesn’t work for my sense the vastness so near, but a glow worm in all the dark is close but no cigar; neither milk and cookies nor happy ending. Just awe filled reverent acceptance. Mindful consciousness is investiture in the present leaving the past and future to triviality. Now is the only thing we can change. Equivocation is not an option nor is killing the adversary since in the act we become averse to ourselves.

Implosion. Taking the agenda for our rule thus becoming the intention of conflict frozen.

I have no sure or certain, no fixed apprehension, yet remain convicted that a forgiving merciful love is present in all time and in all people. Specific these moments even when I face down giving up. My faith, experiential, cloaks me invisibly forgotten and naked I disremember it at times refound.

I suggest you sincerely seek to see what you are looking at with the eyes of your heart. Comprehending there is no floatation device, no ship of state or religion established, that will forestall change, save your choice to be brave, adapt, improvise, prevail: make up your mind and live your choice proudly.

Me thinks myself grotesque yet my love and the interlocutor seem to see me differently as I am.

. . . to both I submit.

Even a weed seen uniquely can be lovely.

Beloved omit yourself only if it your last choice.

“Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in itself, and is complete in itself; praise forms no part of it. So it is none the worse nor the better for being praised.” - Marcus Aurelius

To close: Of M, should she ask, I would give any part or all of me. Realizing now that my prior equivocation simply means that being imperfect I must go forward learning to love the all of myself better. Giving it all to The Interlocutor; my guiding light acknowledged and followed seeking more

130516 05:44 healing

© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved