Fully Lived

I remember the moment when I first had a complex and wonderful experience…Laughter through tears-that is, I learned to live around pain and embrace the joy in my life…to let both pain and joy flow through me with equal willingness and bravery. I remember when I trusted my own heart that much.

I remember when I first felt my heart expand in love for a man. I made a baby.

I remember when I first knew that despite my love, it wasn’t enough. I divorced.

I remember when I first felt my sexuality expand in lust and trust for a man. I embarked wide eyed and enchanted to find out what it is to be a submissive and to be the Mother’s cunt.

I remember the first time I watched my son’s heart break…I thought I would die watching it…and then I learned how important it is to have your heart broken. It is the wise wound and he needs his wise wound if he is to live a full life…just as I do. Thank God for my wise wound.

I remember my first taste of a carrot with the dirt still on; warm green tops in my hand and the cool orange on my tongue. It was so good. I remember the twinkle in my grandmother’s eyes when she handed it to me and told this little city girl that the dirt wouldn’t hurt me a bit.

I remember the first beaver dam I ever saw. I sat beside my grandfather’s knee.

I remember the first time I saw a Heron fledge…and saw a painted turtle up close as it lay eggs. I remember the burst of joy in those moments shared. What a good day that was…

I can see in my mind’s eye the moment my soul first dreamed a dream of power. I was a little girl. I remember when the dreams left….and were replaced with nightmares.

I remember when the dreams came again. I became.

And there were still nightmares for a time. But they too were wise wounds…and the silent, invisible, musical tracks on the path I followed to the training of my submissive soul.

I remember falling in love again with my husband. The moments of hugging that to me…waiting for the right moment to celebrate it with him. Seeing the relief in his eyes… and in my heart.

I remember when the dream walking began…The little seeds were given to me. I learned to garden something other than the land then. Dreaming…a thing that is not wisdom. It is responsibility. It may only be noise. Tricksy. No more.

That is when I learned that power is not at all wisdom. Not at all. Wisdom is important. Power is merely the stuff that washes over you when you are pursuing wisdom. A distraction if you let it be. A tool if you are lucky.

I remember a moment when a teacher told me that I’d never be completely happy…though, if was careful, I would get my chance when I was an older woman. I was so pissed at her. It hurt me to think I’d never live fully joyfully; that i might never live a soft life emotionally the way I see some of my friends doing.

I realize now that wise wounds are not about soft living, but living bravely and soulfully. They are about Healer. Storyteller.

I am that. I love that I am Healer and Storyteller. Accepting all that goes with that is part of my journey. Sometimes it is so hard to accept. My journey is often so very different from the ‘normal’ that looks so safe to me when I look inside at the lives my friends have.

And then I realize things that I am always saying to others; “Happiness is a choice and an action.” For me that is perhaps more True than for others. It is what it is. It is an act of power and beauty to be happy.

An act that I choose.

Even when I am filled with the emotions that draw such words as these from my heart:

I wonder if I’ll ever get to feel at full volume and luxuriously linger in the sweet energy that passed between us so briefly when we hugged…I miss you.

The sweetness of life is like a wave…it ebbs and flows, but it never goes away. It is a vast sea…ever expanding-so far past what this flicker of a human life is. So I need never worry it will be gone, if, for a moment, I look away. She is always there puddling and dragging at my toes while I walk her waves. Buoying me when I float upon her in the sunshine…The sweetness is in the light. It is the scents and sounds and the grittiness of life. It is salty to the taste…even bitter sometimes…yet even so it is sweet in its essence. So sweet to me, this thing called Life.

I was watching a movie that has been on dvd for ever now; Tuck Everlasting, as you see above. The theme over all is about not being so afraid of dying that you don’t live a full life…but for me the story takes me toward the theme of not being afraid of loss…to Trust the moment of joy so deeply that its okay that the loss comes after… To Trust the moment so much that its not the least dimmed by the coming loss.

That last is still very hard for me. I have not learned to trust quite that much…but it is the essence of my Tantric Buddhist teachings- that life is impermanent and that happiness is in acceptance of this simple truth…to embrace the Now fully and savor its sweetness so fully it imbues you with Life.

I am not good at embracing so fully that I don’t simultaneously weep for its coming loss. The fear of loss washes things grey on me at times…

But I sure do jump off the cliff anyway. *smiles*

Its been awhile since I felt strong enough, brave enough or resilient enough to jump off the cliff. Too, I am no longer sure that jumping is even necessary for me. I may have learned all I need to know about jumping emotionally. It may be that I just need moments of jumping creatively these days. We shall see. *smiles*

I miss that very unique power and beauty in me…that sense of being so fully alive which comes with jumping.

Yet I still yearn for the contented softness of life. I have been enjoying this bit of softness I’ve had for awhile now. I am getting well rested from the last jump. Occasionally, I feel restless for another jump…but I am trying to learn what its really like to be soft and contented. Feels pretty good.

What I’d like really? What I think would be healthy and wonderful for me? I want to live just beside the cliff. I want to know that I can jump anytime I like…I’d like to be both softly content and have a life fully lived.

I want to live there not just for the fulfillment of the Healer and Storyteller…but the fulfillment of the soft me…the soft submissive, begging, writhing Mother…happy. Content. Full of a sense of security inside myself…not full of wistful wishing for Another.

Because He’s right there. Filling me; this living, breathing, begging, writhing cunt archetype with His Light.

Here’s some more deep thoughts about Trust from Pamm.

And this post is inspired by this series of posts on Magpie Girl.

If you like landscapes…here’s a nice artist.

Top Image: Rassouli

“We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe