write like the fool: Day 1
So I'm still back bitches, but man am I still inconsistent. Lately I've turned inward a lot with my growth and process. I've been doing a lot of reading, a lot of attempts at meditating, some laying out of plans, with lots of procrastinating mixed in. But I've had a constant gnawing at the same time, that I need to write.
Because I have this whole 'I'm not worthy'-ness, it's always hard for me to believe anyone wants to read anything I'd write. But thanks to amazing earth-angels like Brene Brown, and Anne Lamott, I've recently realized that none of that matters. That the writing is for me. That it's as much a part of my heart as my boys, or my love of nature.
So, when an Insta-friend recently posted about a fun writing prompt adventure that she had created, it seemed tailormade for my inconsistent style. Therefore, I hereby solemnly swear that I'm going to write like the fool for the month of May, thanks to my friend @unearthing_the_gift. Starting with the prompt for Day 1 'A Smile That is a Thinly Veiled Frown'....
She walks slowly, her head tiled sharply down at the ridged and rooted ground over which she moves. It's still too light for a headlamp, but the twilight forest is proving difficult to navigate without a few stubbed toes. She's willing to sacrifice a few toes.
The woods are the only place these days where she feels whole, safe. Well, maybe not safe, not exactly. A lonely woman in the wilderness has to be reasonable when considering the potentials for danger. But the trails and forests and streams in this area have been feeling more like home, so in that regard there is familiarity, comfort, relative predictability. Which is why she's not worried about the darkening sky. Not yet nayways. And as she lopes down the trail, staying light on her feet for those inevetable hidden rocks and snags, her mind wanders. Lake always.
It's frustrating sometimes. She'd like to have the experience of a walking meditation, or a moment of physical exertion to the point of mental blankness. Just for a little break. But these days there's just too much.
The kids. The discoveries. The divorce. The unknowing.
And so, while that automatic part of her brain keeps her feet and legs moving, the rest of it wanders and sorts through the chain of events, the ever morphing mine-field of emotions. Again.
Only this time, she immediately notices a difference. Things are quieter in her memory, the sharp edges have been rounded and softened like taffy. The realization is enough to fully engage her mind for just long enough that she catches her foot and too late, realizes she's going down.
The moment unfolds in slow motion, so she manages to get her hands out to cushion her fall a bit, with the end result being a scuffed shin and stinging palms. As well as the realization that she no longer gives a shit. Not about any of that, not any more.
She sits in the dust with that thought for a moment as a smile builds on her face. The sting of abrasions is overcome by a pulse of gratitude that seems physical, real, like a warm wave slowly creeping over her from the ground up. The smile soon turns to tears. They are at once tears of mourning and tears of joy. Mourning for what had been, what she'd thought she knew and felt and wanted. Joy at discovering that she had progressed into truth and awareness and a space of knowing that had always been in her heart.
She gathered herself up and stood slowly, grounding herself mid-trail. With a deep sigh, she raised her stinging hands to the towering evergreens keeping watch, and shouted. The powerful, primal noise rose to the darkening sky as her tears fell to the forest floor. It felt good to let it all go.
'Now, the real work begins,' she told the trees, and herself. Although her mouth kept smiling, her eyes looked sad, and a little scared. But she kept moving forward.