paralysis

Here she was. At the same fork in the road she had been at years ago. She needed to make a choice.

One road extended into a bleak fog of anger and insecurity. The trees were shriveled and showed no signs of life. Yet the trail continued on, covered in trampled flowers and haunted by the sounds of silence. 

She remembered this route well. She remembered the fight that came to her at the end, the push for independence and freedom and love. She remembered finding it and wishing she had taken a different route. A route without the lies that slowed her down, the ugliness that clawed at her in her dreams. 

The other road was blinding to look at. There was so much light and warmth that inundated the beginning of the trail. She could almost feel all the darkness falling from her, and it hurt.

She stood there. Why did giving up all the anger and resentment hurt? Because she felt powerless. All that light burned her down to a vulnerable nakedness, a place where honesty and truth felt like weapons of hate but were only being wielded by love. 

Her feet felt like led. Progress of paralysis? That was her choice tonight. But she didn't have the heart to make it. 

re-discovery

So familiar, yet everything that kindled this familiarity is lost, gone, missing somehow. After all these years, connections have faded, colors have changed.


Yet familiarity is still there. And this is what I know. What makes me feel safe. What calms my spirit and grants me temporary contentment.


But it's only temporary. 


Here, in this realm of aged familiarity and faded connection, I re-discover myself. I come upon the rubble, the ashes, the cinder of what was once my life. Of what once defined my existence, framed my everyday routine. 


Then one day, like a forest fire sweeping across acres of grass and forest, the flames of transition and change came upon me and ushered me into a new beginning, a new definition of existence, a new framework for the daily rhythm of life. 


From the rubble and ashes and dead stumps, self was re-discovered. Scenery changed, the columns of intelligence and pillars of spirituality shifted. The seasons began a fresh
cycle...


...and here I am now. Re-discovering the landscape that fell victim to one of life's forest fires three years ago. Re-discovering everything that has taken root while I moved on, chased away by the winds and the flames (or drawn, rather), to take root elsewhere. 


It is all so beautiful, and though the shape of my blossom and the bend of my leaves sharply contrast with the native foliage, I am not a stranger.


The re-discovery settles in all around, and I am embraced.