Spring 2015

It is now Spring, and there is an odd promise in the air, but of what that promise is-- I have no idea.

I would like to be all dreamy and say it is of the promise of love and unbidden, limitless passion..but can I ever believe this to be again?  And then again, do I really want that?  No,  I don’t think so for my jaded perceptions of life have garnished my views with some cynicism (til death do us part).  It’s a mannequin sitting in my lap, my hand shoved deep inside the lapel of the cheap velvet suit of this doll.

I know my life holds renewal; in a karmic laden embodiment that ensures there will be happiness.  It is for this that I wait.  And in the same breath, I know sadness will always come too because that is how life flows for us all.  It is the tipping point into sweet joy that I am going to strive for.  Balance with counterweight swaying towards the positive, a Buddhist view to embrace.

I don’t know if I can pull it off.  The messages of my past lives under my skin like an underlayment of subcutaneous “ick”.  Is this my path, to constantly work to keep those feelings in check, the sense that I am never meant to have true love in my life?  I am a fake, a fraud in this version of my unkind self.

Yet….  Joy, yes, I feel this.  Peace too, in a form that I never thought I would experience again back in 2009. Many tell me that all people feel this ubiquitous ennui, but I am not sure if that is true. Do we all feel a sense of “not measuring up”?  And if we do, why does it express itself in so many different ways?  I feel the child in my mind’s eye, asking and searching for the answer of why are people so mean?  My adult “mind” steps in to caution this child to never mind, never mind but protect with the healthy boundaries that should have been put into place long ago.  The boundaries that help me navigate the now, in a way I never have before.  And it’s scary, but true.  A patent plan of action meant to preserve my safety and sanity.  I am a bundle of conflicting emotions.

I am Eve, aware that I am covered with leaves and standing in a garden of thorns and flowers.  I don’t fear the prickles (I know them), but for some reason, I feel terror when thinking about smelling the blooms.  I am alone, but am wondering if that is what I am meant to be.  To face that fear and discover it is not a nightmare.  I don’t know.  But I wait.  And balance.