i spent much of last year looking back. way back. way past up-close. way way back – way way past the smallest of trees on the horizon. it was necessary and painful and shocking and mighty tedious.

“… the mind clings to the road it knows / rushing through crossroads / sticking like lint to the familiar…”
(mary oliver)

and then you peel back the lint that is dryer-vent-covering it all. you wipe off the fuzzy pieces. you take a good hard look at what’s really there, at what you have softened with the padding of trying to forget, of stuffing you have piled on top of your frame, of what you have buried, of the traintracks you have sprinted ahead on, leaving the veritable picture of perspective – the v of traintracks running far behind – away away – with trees so small you can barely discern they are trees. and there it all is. raw. 

and you can see it. and your brain tries to stop you from seeing it. both. so you sit with it – laden – burdened – in the retrospect of it all – connecting the dots, sometimes nodding your head in sudden understanding, sometimes eyes wide, horrified at it all.

it is surreal. you are back there. you can feel it. but you know – that in merely a blink – you can be where you are right now…where you are really. 

and suddenly, you are at a crossroads. you must choose between replacing the lint – tamping it back down and turning your face away from it – or recognizing it as a shield, pulling it all out – this ancient insulation – discarding it and then staring at what’s left – what is now feeling air and space and attention. 

“trauma creates change you don’t choose. healing is about creating change you do choose.” (michelle rosenthal)

and then, after some time – some processing, some sorting, some meaning-making, some swearing, much courage, sheer survival – you glance at all the baggage laying next to you – rolliebags and backpacks, crossbody bags and trunks, paper bags and reusable grocery sacks – and you pick up only that which you wish to carry. 

and you make your way back up the tracks to the place you really are. the place by the big trees.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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