I will continually chip away at the block of fear that imprisons my feet so I can dance a funky little jig.. (A)
I have been an intermittent journal writer since grade school, mostly when I am overwhelmed with things I feel I can’t say aloud for whatever reason. Of course this means that I usually write more when something is bothering me than when everything is fine. There are exceptions – I try to write about my experiences when I travel and also do a yearly review/ goal setting entry for New Year’s. But sometimes I am feeling inspired and want to write declarative mini-manifestos about who I think I am in the moment, or maybe just the person I could see myself being in my mind’s eye. And these are the entries that I re-read when I am feeling lost and confused. When I am trying to find my feet again after being knocked down by a particularly large wave that is washing away my sandcastles, my images of where I think I am, and threatening to drag me out to the endless sea. I read these entries and sometimes I laugh, sometimes I shake my head, and sometimes I just stand back up. Here are a couple of my favorites:
I am part laugh, part tear, part fist, part fear. Part sorrow, part joy, a sexy woman, a tomboy. Part curiosity, part disgrace, part redemption, part saving grace. Part insane, part whole, part mind, part soul. Part bone, part skin, part without, part within. Part musician, part reader, part destructive, part bleeder. Part carbon based life form, part future food for worms. Part electromagnetic fields, part secrets as yet to be revealed. Part walking in the woods, part wanting to do good. Part tripping over my own feet, part squirming in my seat. Part sigh, part moan, part friendly, part alone. Part wanting to be free, part wanting to be at peace. Part wanting someone by my side, part content to go along for the ride. Part wanderer, part scholar, part shrinking away, part trying to stand taller. Part taste and smell and touch, part not enjoying life enough. Part brown-grey-red-purple-blond-black-no hair, part insecure, part beautiful, part self-assured. Part tired of being poor, part rich enough – yes, these things and more…
I will eat when I am hungry and what I wish (within reason) with loud satisfied smacking noises if I so choose and not look into the mirror thinking of fat and ugliness. I will not nibble tentatively at a salad nor order the most expensive thing on the menu on a date – I will eat good food and not apologize for the size of my backside (this is that the boys look at anyway). I will sleep because I am tired and laugh out loud when I think something is funny. I will wear the clothes in my closet and create my own sense of style. I will not go out with people who are ashamed to be seen with me on a creative day, nor will I be ashamed to be seen with a friend having their own dress-up day. I will know that I am beautiful and so are you. I will continually chip away at the block of fear that imprisons my feet so I can dance a funky little jig all the way down the sidewalk. Blessed be all you quirky little souls, firecrackers, giggling lunatics, and other people that put some sparkle into the world. I would like to join your party and we will draw magnificent murals in crayon across the walls, down the halls, in bathroom stalls – little pieces of poetry and riotous flower petals to help us remember what we looked like when we were kids and all was hope, when no game was too serious to walk away from.