Everyone knows I talk about being honest and living your life to fullest. I honestly try to live this way to the fullest and best of my ability. It’s important to me to honest, to face the truth, because I want to be authentic. But, it’s so hard when we live in a world of masks.
In my pursuit to live in this honesty, I’ve had some defining moments; times where I come face to face with the naked truth about myself. Sometimes that exposed truth becomes overwhelming. I need those moments, because they are the moments that help lead me down this particular path. I’m going to talk about one of these defining moments in this post… because that’s what it is for me – defining.
I’ve learned that inside us lives the child we once were. That child never leaves. That child often carries our dreams and our wounds. It’s often the bearer of our joy, playfulness, and spontaneity. It’s also our inner mirror that reflects to us our most hidden truths during these defining moments.
Very recently, I’ve had one of those defining moments. I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve tried to push it away, but the harder I push, the more it reveals itself. I have a dear friend who sometimes tells me things about myself that my first reaction is to become defensive and deny their statements. But my Piper’s words won’t leave me. I hear his voice when I close my eyes, so I try not to close them. I try to fill and occupy my thoughts with any distraction I can, but as soon as it gets quiet, there they are – his words haunting me, singing to me, demanding my attention.
I’m learning the people in our lives have different roles and we open ourselves up or close ourselves off to them depending on that particular role. For this friend, he is the voice of truth – truths I don’t want to face. He recently told me I was afraid of everything and that I was so damaged I couldn’t see the positive or what was right in front of me. I disagreed with him, vehemently. I then hiked the forest alone, I rode down mighty rapids, and I jumped out of an airplane in an effort to prove to that I’m not afraid of anything and that I’m living my life to the fullest of its potential… yet three little words took my breath away and put me on my bathroom floor.
In the span of a few minutes… maybe a total of twenty… so many things went through me all at one time, I knew I was in one of those defining moments. I realized I could face anything in this world -death, disease, destruction – and no matter how strong or how brave I convince myself that I was -I’m still that abandoned little girl left behind, forgotten. I’m still the young woman waiting for her soldier to come home but never will. I’m still the one that hears about how great, wonderful, and loved I am, but I’m just too much and not ‘the one’.
Having a defining moment and facing a truth I didn’t want to hear, doesn’t mean I have the answers. I still don’t know anything. What am I supposed to do now? What can I do? Another friend of mine told me to take a leap, just like I did out that airplane door. I want to – more than anything in this world, but I honestly don’t know how. I’m lost. I’m confused. I don’t know what’s real. I wish someone would just take my hand, wrap their arms around me, and whisper in my ear, “*Come, Come, my Lady, let’s dance.”
*References a story I wrote last year.
The winding path beneath my feet is not made of yellow brick or paved asphalt, but earthen clay covered in autumn leaves. Tumultuous shadows loom behind me, and bare limbs reach out to grab me; to entangle, to ensnare. Chilled winds of uncertainty nip at me, making me shiver.
Bits of sunshine cut through the thick canopy above me, dotting the road, baptizing me in its glory and praise, but its warmth is fleeting. One step away …once again in shadow, two …more sun, three …more shadow, but never sustaining, never sure.
Whispers echo through the pines, those evergreens, always in season, always the same in a forest of changing colors and varying scents. “Come, come,” they call, offering a home among the woodland, the accepted majority, kings and queens of their kind. The path is narrow; the limbs push and pull, defining familiar trails.
Into the foggy haze before me, a part of the road lay hidden in the unknown, cloaked in obscurity, and masked with uncertainty, I hear a soft melody. Its rich tone entices me, pulls me, and seduces me with each pure note. My Piper sings to me, “Come, come, my Lady!” I long to obey, to fall under his spell.
The Pines, the Piper. A raging storm ensues. The Pines, the Piper. Calling, drawing, making me dizzy, and twisting me in knots. “Come, come,” they implore. Spinning me round and around, entangling bits of my hair, ripping parts of clothes, slicing into my skin, till I’m nothing but a ragdoll.
I fall. “Come, come,” I whisper through swollen, cracked lips. “You’ve taken all I have …sans my heart.” Hot tears shimmer down my cheeks. “Come, come, if you dare. Who will love me?”
The Pines remain quiet, stiff in their pride, but in the distant a single, pure note weaves through the forest. My Piper comes. He appears out of the fog, followed by a gay crew of revelers. He stands before me, holds out his hand, a smile tugging on the edge of his lips, and says, “Come, come, my Lady, let’s dance.”
Till next time,