Coming home feels good.
A blank sheet is a new beginning, its home. The screen before me invites my heart to open and settles my mind. And each sentence ends with a period that tells me to begin again. My experience is when one door closes, many swing open.
My life today is full of beginnings. I moved September 8th. I have a whole new town to explore and new friends waiting to meet me. I start teaching at a new studio next week. I shop at a new grocery store, buy gas at Get and Go and there’s a Good Will nearby when I feel a need for new used clothes I don’t need.
I think of the moon often. It’s sure and steady and pulls at my roots. Sometimes it’s a mere wink in the sky, and other times its fullness reminds me to hold my emptiness.
Life takes much and gives more than it takes. I know nothing can hurt my muse. Oh she may wander at times or sit in silence but I know she always listens to the flutters in my heart even when I am too overwhelmed to hear the pauses between the beats or too hurt to embrace its promise.
I have been bat-shit crazy and drunker than the lord and still, I can write. I may not remember it but the next day or the next era I can read what I wrote and the muse rules. In life I may not make sense but here, sense is made, in spite of me.
Now I have not been crazy or drunk in quite some time. But summer was a season when a day rarely passed that I did not cry.
Strength finds me even when I lose my strength. I endure. I go forward. I do what I must. I survive.
And I know when I am ready to court my muse she meets me with a sly smile and knows what I don’t.
I know life can be challenging for many of us in a myriad of ways. We coast along until something happens and all of a sudden all we believed to be true is false. All we placed our hope in betrays our faith and our faith must rise without expectation and give the one thing we need to go on: a belief to hold onto that lets us know this too shall pass.
And for me the belief is that love, no matter what, will live on even if those loved change and withdraw what was once given. My belief gives me what I need to love no matter what and this belief feeds my compassion for those who hurt me and for my own struggles.
It feels good to come home, to explore, to know I am too old for a clean slate yet every writing holds a moment where the slate is clean, the page is white, the invitation is strong, and I meander through meaning to find a nugget of truth to share in hopes of learning what is hidden when there’s nothing between the lines. So I thread the needle and begin. And every time I begin I know what’s final is but an illusion because minds change, meaning morphs and need moves through me whether I like it or not.
The doors don’t need locks. The windows don’t need blinds. All we have is all we are. And the blessings of the muse help me see for she is the key.
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Ed: Catherine Monkman