Nothing and Everything

Five days, four nights, hundreds of people, hours of walking, nine workshops, myriads of sights, sounds, and scents. Of most importance though, five people, five souls who touched my life briefly but oh-so-intensely. Four of which I met, and one I did not meet, but would love to, an artist who's work I had somehow never encountered before, Markus Pierson. An artist who's words resonate within me as much as his visual art, if not more so. At this moment, all leaving a portion of me numbly calm.

While in Houston, there were moments when I was fully there, and moments in which I felt as if I was not truly there, now I am home, and yet, I am not home.

I am numb. And yet, Anna Nalick's Breathe (2am) lyrics have been, and keep, running on repeat through my mind.

Information overload, surprises, experiences, faces, emotions, conversations to be assimilated, needing to be assimilated. Yet no time in which to do so.

My mind is filled with images and words, important words, words that may change my life. If I allow them to.

From the moment I boarded my outgoing plane, my senses, my mind were fully opened, ready to absorb. Absorb I did. Each night when I arrived back to my hotel room I was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. So much so, I couldn't seem to take the time to refresh and re-energize. Each night as I attempted to write the day's experiences in my journal, I found myself unable to record the day just passed. Pages filled with thought fragments, and incomplete sentences.

Fragments that must eventually be examined and placed in their proper perspective.

I surprised myself because there was not one point in time in which I longed for home, nor did I feel lonely. When I needed to interact with people, I could, and it came easily to me. Another surprise, as I am very introverted and can be quite shy with strangers.

I was not ready to return home.

And yet...home again I am.

In these few moments I have before the next 48 hours of craziness fill my life (Miss Daughter is graduating this weekend), and even though I am still numb, there is a thought process that I must eventually follow through to its end. Hiding, yet peeking through, is a strong conviction that I have reached an important place in my life. One which fills me with hope, excitement, and dread. Because it involves a new way of thinking, and believing.

These thoughts center around a common theme. Grief, and letting go. I have been in mourning for years, and never fully allowed myself to realize it. I mourn for the abused child me, for the childhood she cannot cherish. I mourn the young adult woman I buried away because I feared her courage and strength. (this may sound crazy, but it is so much easier to be weak). I mourn the wife I could not become. I mourn lost dreams. I mourn a love that was not meant to be. I mourn loved ones lost to death, and otherwise, of whom I do not feel I expressed my true depths of feeling to. I mourn what my marriage could have been. I have been lost in the land of mourning, grieving for what could have been.

There is a time for grief, a time for mourning, it is a necessary part of our growth and health as humans beings. But there is also a time to move on from the grief, to let the past go, to embrace today, and tomorrow.

The threads of my life seem to be intent upon weaving a new and brighter design to my life tapestry. When I step away to view this new area, the background has been shaded in with the colors of midnight. An indigo field with a sprinkling of stars. The rest is unknown, unimagined, anything is possible.

If a new pattern is to emerge, I must follow one rule only.

This rule was defined for me by a beautiful stranger four nights ago.

Within only moments of meeting me, he said, "Open your heart, it is time."

He is right, it is time.

Many fragments of thought...hinging on one...my walls of protection are still in place...I have shaken the foundation, but I got a whole lot more shaking to do before they come tumbling down.

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"She lingers, staying past the sunset, past the end of the evening, on into the night and its many mysteries. She is strong, very, and unafraid to face those mysteries. She looks across her horizon. She has but one wish; for love to rain down upon her, to cover her completely and hold fast, to stay strong over time...and I will. There is no mystery there."
~Markus Pierson~

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