As I begin, let me be aware of the danger of abstraction. Today, my eyes are clear, the sky is bluer than two days ago, the sunlight is calling me out of my cocoon. Days ago, my eyes were blinded by the shapes looming on the cinderblock of unrealized dreams--of being a name in an anthology, a charcoal grey pencil skirt with a fat paycheck, a lunch-date with girlfriends, a story-teller/listener with tea at a kitchen table, a jean-wearing Mom laughing as her curly-headed child is tossed in the air, a showered-fresh and shaved leg waiting for her lover. Today is the equivalent of shedding 35 unwanted pounds or peeling the flakes of dead skin off a sun-ripped back. I am free from the puppet show of what is not. Life is short. I know this. I have lived this. Success is too high on the levels of abstraction to mean anything until it is defined. Good lesson. Success for me is still being defined.
Getting naked. Stripping your should've/could've/would've's and your fears and your pain is liberating, right? and almost impossible, or is it? One question I am learning to ask is What if __________(the worst thing you can think of) is true? What if the fear beating you down, pinning you against the floor, sucking your breath out, is real--does happen? This is not news. It is obvious, but it is difficult for me to face. The most dangerous place to be is in the gap between now and fear.
I do not want to live in fear. I want to live in now. I want to wrestle free from the overbearing, hugging faux-satin orange jumpsuit pulling my hair and pinning me with his knees. Now is what we have. What if it is not what I imagined? What if it is not worthy of a cereal box or magazine cover? What if it is my life...It is my life. So, I choose to live it, stripped, naked, and ready to rumble.
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