I want to hold your hand…
It hit me somewhere along the line that I needed to go back to the forests of my childhood and face death, look her straight in the eye and tell her I wasn’t afraid-this was only a chance for metamorphosis. I was not going to let myself become a sheep in a herd out of fear for safety. I realized life is not safe, no matter how many systems you play into or who you pretend to be. If you’re honest you’re invincible. If you’re honest with yourself you cannot be afraid.
I’m no longer afraid of the things that used to plague me. I’ve realized that while many people are asleep, I’ve become very much awake.
I may be losing my mother, and I may know death on an intimate level, but I know that life is painful for a reason-like a drawing the markings force your identity to the surface.
I know that in our culture we are not supposed to talk about loss. The worst thing in our society to call someone is a loser. The issue herein lies that no one is ever good enough, the stakes are always raised, and perhaps we do this to keep ourselves from stopping and reflecting on what it truly means to be human.
In the animal world life and death are always connected, the fact that there is pain and the need for survival are not ignored. Sea turtles lay their eggs on the beach only to have birds eat the fertilized yoke the next day, so many dreams and possibilities in those small embryos lost.
Perhaps that is what life as a human is too. Our dreams are like those sea turtle eggs, with only a few surviving to hatch. So much love goes into them to have them disappear.
Loss can be destructive on the human soul but only because we ignore it for so long. We deny ourselves our sadness.
I realized this year that if there was no dark than there could not be any light. If I didn’t lose, I could never reach for something more.