I have received many of the same comments from those of you who are reading these words of mine. They remind me of why it has taken me so long to get at this. And what are these comments? “You are very brave to so honestly speak about your innermost secrets.” This is true. I am brave and I am willingly exposing my life to the scrutiny of others. Who wants to admit their failings, all the stupid things we’ve done, the mistakes we’ve made, the people we’ve hurt, the dreams left unfulfilled? I certainly did not want to do this and I have fought what became a constant, unceasing push from deep within my being to do this very thing for many years. What fear held me back? To be honest, I don’t know. What if we all stopped carrying a secret self around that we do not allow others to see? Why does the thought of doing this frighten us? What if there was nothing hidden that could not be seen? Seems to me there would be no reason to have to pretend to be something we are not. What a different world this would be don’t you think? There is something strangely liberating about being open and honest about what I think and what I do and why I do it. I am feeling lighter and lighter with every post. Soon, I will be able to fly!!
Journal entry from the month of February 2008:
“no more pencils
no more books
no more teachers dirty looks”
I feel like I have just got out of school! The school of hard knocks that is. What a strange feeling this is for me. I feel free for the first time in 22 years. But now what do I do? No longer compelled to rise in the middle of the night and write down as quickly as I could the jumble of words racing around in my head because I knew if I did not do it in the moment they would be gone. No more questions whirling around, no more books calling out to me driving me to read, read, read, - write, write, write. An almost eerie silence has come over me and I feel strangely alone left with only my own thoughts to guide me. My “teachers” seem to have vacated the premises. Appears as though I have somehow managed to graduate from this mystery school I have been enrolled in for so long. What have I learned I wonder? The only way to find out is to now read my own journal writings so I can see where I have been in order to know where I am. Stacks of journals sit in front of me and as I look at them I am amazed at how dedicated I was to getting it all down. Why did I do this? For what purpose? This shift back to the past began in 2005 when I found myself looking for answers in my journals instead of one of the many books gathered over the years that now sit on my bookshelves. I would be reading a new book and there on the pages were words that triggered a memory of a time when I had written the same words in my journals. How can this be? I would ask myself, but when I checked lo’ and behold, I would find this to be true. I began to pay attention when this happened and I found there was a pattern of some sorts, a connection, between whatever I was reading about in the present to a certain date in my past. The more I followed this the more interesting it all became.
Something else changed as well. My obsession with bookstores began to abate, mainly because every time I looked I could find nothing that appealed to me. Previously whenever I needed a particular piece of information the right book would practically fall off the shelf into my hands. A great shopping day for me was finding a new book to read. I could not go by a bookstore, especially used ones, without checking it out. A new book to read was so exciting. I felt almost sad when I would bring home a book only to discover there was nothing new in it for me. Longing to read, I began to scan my own bookshelf and on any given day grab one and re-read words I had read before. Again! Something new hit me. Same words, same books, but now I had picked up more information from so many years of studying and I could see a new meaning to the same old story. Books have been my greatest teachers. There is nothing that cannot be found, no question that cannot be answered. It has all been written time and time again by author after author in book after book. Whatever I was searching for, if I looked hard enough, I found it – in books! Looks as though the book I now need is my own! Somewhere hidden in my writings I will find out the reason for it all. It has been a long time coming. Whoever or whatever has been pushing my buttons must be heaving a big sigh of relief. “Finally! She is going to do as she is told.” I haven’t been a willing pupil over the years, but I have persevered even if I do not know why. Well, yes I do. I owe a debt and it must be paid. I gave my word some 21 years ago next week. March 3rd to be exact, two days before my daughter Caprice’s 35th birthday. How very appropriate given that she is the reason for it all in the first place.
Thomas Moore, is a writer I can identify with who writes in words that are plain and simple because they come from his heart not his head. He is not afraid to admit to his dark nights of the soul and I have learned to do the same. I was afraid to let my heart rule, but thanks to all the writers who had the courage to speak their truth for all to hear my fears are seen for what they are - nothing but shadows lurking in the dark. In the words of Edgar Cayce: “the greatest fear is fear itself.”
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