Here I am again, writing, attempting to recreate a post I just wrote and lost. Metaphorically, I have spent a lifetime trying to resurrect myself, to arise out of the ashes into the light, to sit at the right hand of the father, to be part of the blessed trinity, to be the fourth piece of the Godhead. I longed for God to raise me from the dead. He never came.
I then hoped and prayed for a knight in shining armor to rescue me. I laid in the tomb sleeping, waiting for the Romeo to awaken me. I searched for the the for the crumbs I had dropped when my father carried and left me in the woods to die. Lost and alone, I searched for the seven dwarfs, but instead found the Old Hag. Without her love and guidance I would never have survived. She taught me to forage, to eek out a life, even to steal in order to sustain my life. She lives in me today, the woman who will never give up.
I am selling my business. I am selling my third child, my creation, my love, my heart and soul. I am selling what has consumed me and depleted me so that I may live again. By surrendering control of what has been so consuming I will be reborn, like the Phoenix, rising from the ashes of a life charred by abuse, neglect, rage, abandonment and despair, I will soar to new heights. Lying defeated in the middle of the battlefield of my life, I awaken to see the sun above. The Great Eastern Sun which never sets. Its warmth comforts me as I crawl out of the shadows into the light of day.
You, the world, are my parents, my siblings, my friend and my lovers. I do not want your pity nor do I need your help. I do not seek peace. I want life. I offer you my vulnerability in hopes of finding the world within me that is the one true source of unconditional love and warmth and safety. By giving you my pain, I regain my strength, and in return, I promise to hold your sorrow at the center of my heart….a heart broken open by pain, disappointment, loneliness and recurrent rejection.
It is not you, mother, nor is it you, father, who is to blame for my despair. You left me long ago. You did. I lost my child, the child within, the child who could have played with joy under the oak tree in our back yard. She died. I will live with that loss the rest of my life, but I will not be crippled by it. Sarla has arisen, like Lazarus from the grave, embodying a part of who she was, but miraculously becoming the child she was always meant to be. She is so messy, so cute, such a wild child. She cares nothing about rules and regulations. She is loud, boisterous. You might say she has “attitude.” I will spoil her, pamper her, cater to her every need and desire. Is there any limit to what she will want and need? None and she shall have it all. She will never again be alone. She is my love, my life, my joy. We have traveled far and wide to find one another. Now we are one, and no one will ever, ever separate us. We are eternal, everlasting, united through all time and space.
Yipee……..Let’s play. “Do you want ice cream? I do. And cake too.”
Writing into the Light 