I used to love writing early in the morning. It seemed like I had so much to say. Years of pent up emotions, thoughts, or ideas to express and analyze. Words flowed out of me like tumbling rivers, churning, whirling, and bubbling along. Anger and angst were my companions for awhile. I allowed myself to open my emotional doors, and up they rose, swelling to bursting, forcing me to confront them even with all their glorious agony. A wall of shame and pain blocking the way to peace and pleasure, happiness and love.
There simply was no other way but through.
Now, all I really want to do is walk and reflect on the morning - listen to bird songs and breathe the dawn freshness. I feel silent, at peace, but mostly I like the sensation of love. I always used to think that I was a loving person. But, in fact, I was terrified of it. I had absolutely no idea what it felt like to love or be loved. Whenever I started to sense a feeling of it, I would run for my life - all over the world, even - for the longing, or fear of losing it, was too great to bear. Indeed, as love sensations would rise in me, anger and angst would sweep over me like a huge tidal wave - a tsunami of fear - and I would flee - fly away - and lie somewhere in a bumbling, bungled heap of misery, shivering and shaking, until I had enough courage to creep out of my hole, my self-created abyss, and try again.
Hm ... no wonder I wrote a book called: Confronting Our Discomfort!
Lately, it feels as if the rage has finally crashed and stormed over the steepest waterfall and sunk into a deep and peaceful pool - a lake, or sea of peacefulness. It is like taking a deep breath, and as I raise my head out of the water, the sun shines, the air is cool and healing, and love is all around. It is as if I have opened my chest and am allowing love in, just as much as I am learning to give it in return. A wall of darkness - anger, angst, shame and fear has been broken through and light is pouring through the cracks.
These sensations are new for me. Understanding them has become a silent process. Not easily expressed. Indeed, lately, I prefer to take a long walk early in the morning. Rather than write.
Although I sense that this is a temporary state, for I dearly love to write.
A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Cyber trotting
Thank you, Donna. I would say one thing in reply to your comment: It is worth it - and your turn is surely coming. You have great courage to face the things you are facing. I like how you have said "Hang on to your seat." My, Bob-the-therapist, used to say to me, "Hold still ..."
Smiles.
Posted by: tamarika | July 11, 2009 at 06:10 AM
TOmar... your words have brought me to tears... tears of deep understanding, resonance, and then the tears of hope. I can't even imagine a time when I will transcend that wall you talk of... I can't even imagine it. All day I have been thinking "when will it end? when will all of this matter? when will I NOT feel like this? Maybe," I wondered "when I am sixty, like Tamar"... and here you are and the egocentric child in me feels like you wrote this just for me as if to say "hang on to you seat, Old Friend... it's a wild ride, but so worth it". It just has never felt worth it I'm afraid, but I can only hang on and believe that if it is worth it for others, why not me... so my turn is coming. Thank you for this beautiful post... it is really wonderful and hopeful and joyful and honest.
Posted by: Donna | July 09, 2009 at 05:55 PM