Be Strong, Be Still, But Above All

by

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!

 

-Shakespeare

 

Sigh.

 

Of course I was not being true to mine own self.  I was being true to a part of myself, that part of me that lives in fear, that which does not ever have enough, despite the warm bed, the full stomach, the art about her, she still fears.

 

I did a lot of writing.

I did a lot of thinking.

 

Then I did some more writing.

Then I stopped thinking and I started to listen.

 

Shh.

 

“Don’t go.”  She said, simply, “don’t go,” she repeated.

 

Her words rang in my ear.  And eventually those words drifted through my blood stream, into my heart, into my gut.

 

“Follow your fucking bliss, what ever that is,” he said.

 

His words shouted out from the screen.

 

Those words sank through my eyes and seared themselves over that patch of fear in my head.

 

I sat.

I meditated.

 

I walked.

 

I sat and I listened some more.

 

To thine own self be true, was reiterated again.  And then again.

 

I turned over the 8 year piece in my hand, stamped with a Paris emblem, 8 ans Paris, I wiped the tears off my cheeks, I sat with my back flush to the radiator, warm, and still, I listened some more.

 

You are not making a mistake.

Even if you are making a mistake, you are not making a mistake.

 

That part of me that wants to be secure and know everything that is happening and not be surprised, because all surprises are bad right?  Did not want to hear what I was hearing, but my heart did and it blew the thoughts away.

 

I am not going back.

I am staying.

 

I can breathe again.

 

I have to follow my bliss.

I am supposed to travel more.

 

I am not about to give up yet.

 

“Time, takes time,” he said.

 

I breathed in again and felt the tear melt well up in my eyes.

No, sir, I am not crying, that is a snowflake caught in my lashes.

 

Liar.

 

But it did snow again today.  Cold flurries, nothing that stuck, not like the fall that happened last night.  I had not realized that the snow was sticking and when my room-mate came in covered in snow I realized I had to go back out.

 

I got out of bed and got dressed.  I took a phone and my camera, my house keys and my muffler, and set out into a wonderland.

 

It was deliriously beautiful.

 

I wanted to walk up and around Sacre Coeur, but I got an unwelcome “tourist guide” who would not stop following me, I cut my walk short to escape the unwanted attention.

 

I did, however, feel softly sweet and safe in the crush of snow, the few cars about going so slow you could cross the street without looking both ways.

 

I turned down job.

I turned down the fear.

 

I said yes to the great unknown.

 

I said, ok, you got me this far, where do you want me to go next?

 

Africa?

 

Maybe, I have always had a desire to travel there.

 

I might stay in Paris, I may go South, I may go where ever the wind blows me.  I may be poor as a church mouse, but I will be rich in experience and abundant with self-love.

 

When I say yes to trying to stick it out and no to that which I know, then I really am in faith.

 

Tonight that is what this feels like.

 

Faith.

 

Sitting in the dark—literally—the electricity went out about a half hour ago and no, I can’t figure out how to get it turned back on and my room-mate does not have a clue and go to the store and buy candles and get into it.

 

Fuck you, I want a cup of hot tea.

 

Um.

 

Yeah, go to the store and buy some candles.

 

Sure thing, boss.

 

I have a dream.

 

I am living it, I am going to keep living it, and when it no longer makes sense, and I cannot find my way, I will just fall down the hill and maybe instead of grasping out for things to stop the inevitable, I will just surrender and fall.

 

Just because I am falling does not mean I am failing.

 

My sweet neighbor just gave me a candle.

 

I don’t have to dash to the corner store.

 

I do not have to freak out.

 

Everything is as it should be.

 

If it’s meant to be I cannot fuck it up.

If it’s not meant to be I can’t manipulate it into happening.

 

I believe I am meant to be here.

I am going to stop trying to fuck it up.

 

I am just going to let it happen.

 

 

*I wrote this blog last night on a dying battery, in the dark.  The electricity blew when I went to put the kettle on.  And the heat went out.  And it’s cold here.  In case you were wondering.   The guardian fixed it this morning, but this was my first chance to get it posted.  Another blog will follow later today.

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