Any guesses as to how many luscious, indulgent words my fingers will be privileged to pump out before my Luminous Shrimp cries out from the bedroom and sucks me into the roaring machine of single motherhood? My guess is not enough to scratch the itch or feel outrageously coherent. I have seemingly abandoned my post here in Athena Graceland, because Serena has been on an early-waking-bender. For weeks now. And the lone shred of something for “myself” has blinked out like a kamikaze star. Sigh. The heat is ON. And the longer I go without writing, the less I know what to even say. I mean… what does one say when they are being broken down???
Well in THIS moment, it seems almost obvious… One describes the process of being broken down. Such that it becomes poetry and salvation and wholeness. Such that when one looks backward at the wilderness of her Unfolding, she might have a deeper understanding of Divinity and Perfection, Healing and Grace and Destiny.
But God… There is so much. And it feels like chinese water torture to imagine going play by play, ounce for ounce. So where does that leave me? In the epicenter of my heart, I s’pose.
I have not had any communication with Ed (Serena’s dada, and the married man I have fought for for four years now) for days. Today I am pretty damn sure I have given up the fight. For real. I know that I am a classic case of the girl who cried wolf, when it comes to the topic of “breaking through” with Ed… And I don’t expect you to believe me. But I will testify that we have never gone more than a few hours without communicating at least a little bit. Except for once a few years ago…. and that time, it was painful and dramatic. But this time, I feel relieved and more whole… Like finally, my life doesn’t feel like it’s got a flat tire or a sinkhole. I’m not syphoning my life-force into this fantasy world that detracts from the immediate and glorious world I marinate in. I never imagined this day would come. Detaching from Ed seemed beyond impossible. And actually, I guess it IS, since we have a child together. I guess it’s not ED I’ve detached from… but from the fantasy of someday playing house with him.
Letting go of that rotten fantasy, I land with a sobering thud in the reality that I am an over-stretched and stressed single mama. Yes, I have been that the whole time…. But I refused to fully admit it. Part of me was fiercely clutching this other frustratingly intangible life. No longer. Now I am here. Shmoozing with all of my nearest and dearest– Loneliness, Exhaustion, Longing, Confusion, Regret and my all time favorite– DISAPPOINTMENT. Yeah me and disappointment can’t seem to get enough of each other.
The surface “me” wishes things were different. And I mean almost EVERYthing. But the deeper me is actually relieved, because I can’t even get a grip on my identity, and I know it’s because I am dissolving. And how can one EVER hope to know their Infinite-God-Self, if they are all twisted up around the shards and husks of something less. Social conditioning and past experiences and self-imposed limitations. “On paper” (or on the screen, to be more accurate), it looks pretty glamorous– the Opportunity to know my Self…. But in real time, it has been barren and excruciating. Lonely and hopeless. Like Jesus wandering the desert for forty days and forty nights. Except from Athena Graceland, forty days and forty nights seems like a recreational cake-walk. Over here, it’s more like a paltry stone’s throw from Forever. I long for some PG-13 man-love. Just a strong and beautiful and clear soul to hold me and rub my shoulders and smell my hair and cook me dinner and delight in my (dwindling) radiance. But then I wonder if inviting that in would actually be like tying my own shoelaces together and making me trip all over myself, when what I really need to do is MOVE FORWARD. I’m afraid that even the most simple and pure intentioned connection could quickly turn complex and haunted. Because I’m someone who can’t NOT go deep. And relationships are complex and twisty and jagged… because they arouse our deepest vulnerabilities.
Well there’s a lot I want. And then there’s my rigorous moment to moment existence. And the two don’t seem to have too much overlap, so who cares?
But even still, all I can do is breathe and do my best to hold my own heart as the Infinite Treasure and “do what it takes to feed the children”.
Thank GOD for my friends. Even though I am navigating such profoundly uncomfortable terrain these days (as many of us are, I must acknowledge… and I pray that sharing MY journey will offer healing to yours. That my Ultimate Faith may illuminate your own. That my honesty and willingness will inspire you to face yourself with kindness, curiosity and humor.), I cherish my morning walks with Teri and her little Phoenix. The healing, honest and spiritually nutritious exchange of voice memos with QuynhyMama. The ever-irreverent, easy and no-holds-barred, spiritual gangsta sisterhood with Anitra. The “Cheers-esque communion with the warm-hearted staff at Mother Truckers– the tiny and amazing grocery store a hop and a skip down the road from Ananda. The hallowed daily check-ins and gift of Listening bestowed my my dear Mother. God bless her! Even as she navigates the brambly forest of Cancer and ChimoTherapy, she is still my rock.
Serena is awake.
But I’m satisfied with this cut of sharing. And I aspire to a more steady linguistic outpouring of this Wild and Enchanted Journey through God’s very creative and ruthless Imagination.
Bless you, for we are all in this together. And I’m certain you are rockin it over there!