Tuesday, June 17, 2014

I'll be alright

All the broken hearts in the world still beat, let's not make it harder than it has to be... I've got two hands, one beating heart, and I'll be alright. 
~Ingrid Michaelson, Girls Chase Boys
 
 
photo by Tamlyn Rose
 
Isn't it funny how a song can lift you?
Where are my dancing shoes,
I need to get up and move.
Where are my pens & pages?
There is a world to be written.
Something new begins;
I press play and the Universe forgives me
for my faults this morning.
Heaven skips stones and it sounds like melody,
rhythm, beat. Carefree.
 
 
 
 

There is so much wrong with the planet, and the weight of everything cements my shoulders in an eventual slump. Rest is elusive; Peace, a tricky bastard to catch.

A couple of days ago, there was a flash rainstorm above our part of the city. I've not seen or heard the skies like that since my time in Tornado Valley, USA.  It started, and my chest caught on a word & worry: windows. Windows. An odd feeling, but I stood on the porch for a few minutes to try and clear it, staring intently at the rain, made sure our cars were all closed, checking my intuition against what I saw. Satisfied I must be paranoid, I went back in. I stood and listened, said out loud, I love rain like this. Fifteen minutes later, due to Grace alone, we discover a flooded window well downstairs, and a quickly flooding basement.

Rainboots fill easily, but I wore them anyway as I stood thigh deep in the water-filled window well, chest deep as I bent to find what should have been a working drain. Our roof was a waterfall to the spot, and I, underneath it. Frantic and purposeful, I managed to clear the rocks away from the drain cover (they'd been dislodged by the sheer volume of water landing heavy on them). I helped the water escape down it's intended path, away from the house.

When you ask the world to shake, it just might. If you ask it to be still, it might quiet you yet. Sometimes I feel like that window well; I was given all the right parts at the factory, but the water in the world overwhelms me, dislodges my intentions. I mean to hold up my end of the bargain, but I end up spilling in all the wrong areas.

Admittedly, there was something healing about that waterfall hitting my back, the cold up too high on my legs. It was cleansing, almost. I've been so tired, the heavy wet awoke me. The shock of cold and water was so tangible, I felt human. I've been feeling so uncontained, the vision of our overflowing window felt like a prophetic dream come alive. A sign so clear I've pinched my heart for days. Watch your perimeters. Follow your instincts. Jump in, the house is flooding.

It's easy to get down on ourselves for the basements of our lives - all that dark space we normally avoid, or thought we'd use. But think of this: without our foundations (no matter what they're made of) our houses would sit on nothing; we would give way to the rain, and we'd crumble. Maybe that sense of urgency we have about our faulted selves is a blessing. Take a look at the storm above your head, in your chest, your belly, your gut, under your feet. You've seen it. Now, follow your instincts. We'll never get a hold of Peace if it's the only thing we're chasing. We've got to do the work of healing, too.

3 comments:

Mama said...

Your words always leave me speechless....and seeing myself.
❤️

anita said...

you did it again - made the basement less of a haven for bogeymen and all things unholy. Now, where did I leave that box of kleenex??

afterthoughtcomposer said...

:) an x & an o to you both.