Did you know that dead things grow life too?
It has been close to a year since my last posting here and since I wrote much of anything more than a few paragraphs long. I embarked upon a journey earlier this year meant to free me from fear and stagnancy. Seemingly so, I soiled fear deeper into a harvest I am now reaping. Oddly enough, I am happy with what I have sown. Granted, I have melted over and over again into an endless sea of agony, anxiety, frustration, worry, hopelessness, and forgetfulness. I have carried a broken spirit along with broken bones. I have cheered in succession, cried because of defeat, and grieved loss. I have traveled across a spectrum of emotions and driven across several states in the course of nine months. Much of my experiences I have yet to find the words for. But still, I am happy with how well I have seeded the soil of my earth. I have come to realize that you never return to yourself the same no matter how many circles you draw and chase at your feet.
I am like those dead leaves at the base of that weathered tree. At least, my fears have acted as such. Each leaf acting as rotten lies I have told myself over the course of twenty-five years. Each leaf illustrating every excuse disallowing me from dreaming bigger, being freer, more delicately vulnerable, and robustly rich when expressing every facet of myself in every waking moment. Fear has blanketed me. I have housed my heart in illusory comforts, security, and guarantees. I have trusted impulse over courage, instant gratification over long-term abundance, conditions over love, and survival over flourishing. I have seeded intentions in the furrows of fear, but by doing so, I have learned how to replant myself so that my roots can be viewed transparently so but never exposed. I have trained my eye to see bounty over beauty. I have worked my hands to know the difference between malnourished clay and nutrient-rich earth.
I am the weathered tree that has learned to take shelter before taking flight. I have learned to honor, respect, and cherish my emotions but not to act solely from the root of each. I am the weathered tree, in its majesty with outstretched branches caressing the heavens as I give thanks, protected. Because, I am exhausted with running. I am ready to securely sink into a greater awareness about where I am presently rooted in life. Flowers still bloom and die here upon my limbs, because life and death still reside upon my tongue. The sun still reaches me from here too. And, oh how I feel its warmth.
Running away from yourself is less painful than running into the very person you have been afraid to become, which is why choosing yourself can be difficult for some. I have been running myself in circles, avoiding myself in ways I wasn’t aware of until this very moment as these words escape my lungs. I am here, present in the hundredth loop taken on my path, but this time I choose to see myself in totality. I choose to stop running. I choose to bury fear before I bury my soul ever again.