Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Life That Never Was.....
I am weeping at a letter, one sent electronically, written by someone I have never met.
Beyond the fact that this was NOT the first letter of this sort, I am overwhelmed that someone would think to write to me. And, that letter would be the catalyst for THIS letter.
I won't divulge the specifics, but it is one of many letters, comments, online accolades. They sort of say the same thing, I suppose....I would like to tell you....you inspire me....I wanted to always do (fill in "x"), but was not strong enough, as you."
This letter, though, this letter was more dire. Words like "FAILURE" when speaking about themselves, dotted sentences here and there.
And that, that was what was shattering my heart.
The letter was scribed perhaps a month ago...and in that time, I was mulling it over, letting it haunt the recesses of my cobwebbed gray matter, and being surprised by it ALL.
And then I decided to write THIS letter, which I daresay I'll call a LOVE letter, for that is what I mean it to be....
First, let me say that I am SURPRISED--astonished, really--that people not only READ these ridiculous, long ramblings, but that they think it something to contact me about. More so, that they tell me about the aches of their hearts, ask for advice, write to me of their fears, confide in me. I am honored....
But, it is embarrassing...because, truth be told, I am as fine and as foolish as the next soul out there. As recently seen, I am subject to as much tossing about and heartache as the next gent or gal, no doubt about it. In fact, I'm not even sure that I am writing this with a mixture of melancholy as well as fortitude, as so much seems to be happening all at once, that I'm not sure what to make of it.
I aspire to no known rituals to combat fear or do anything out of the ordinary and--in fact--STILL have done nothing out of the ordinary...I exist still as a dreamer with a horse and cart pipe dream and like so many dreamers...it just sits out there, over the horizon.
And, in fact, I could as easily say that my life was a failure too, but still I carry on, because I can, because I have this gift to move my bones and breathe air and see so much beauty and....it is all in short order. In one week, I will have crossed the thresholds of what some might call old age in women. I blink my eyes in blind wonder: one moment ago, I was 20 with my whole life ahead of me, and now it's double-turned and I'd have hoped that I would have been further than this, by now.
But I've nothing to my name, not unlike fabled Gypsies, and no more than a skill and trick or two up my sleeve, and the fearlessness to move forward...or is it? Because I know how short and precious life is--I have seen and seared the image of the soul departing in One Dear Man---and it will haunt me forever. And it goads me ever forward to accomplish what I can, no matter how small it all turns out at the end. What is it for all of us just to do what we can with what we have?
Which brings me to another point: there is no failure in doing what is right, but may be "common." There are days when no original dream can be had. One may lament that they could not do what their youthful heart wished upon, because of family, obligations, security, fear. But this would not label you a FAILURE. The bravest thing is to sometimes do the heart-crushing thing; do not think that I couldn't envy a person with a true house, secure money coming in. Do not think that there aren't certain pangs and longing looks each time I walk down an isle of baby clothing or see small children running around. But that life cannot be had by me, one who has chosen to live without a particular job set and lifestyle; I have no love of small mongrels of government mandating my life inside a box to push paperwork, but that decision carries it's own risk.
Nevertheless, it is true; the grass is always greener, and sometimes those that look to have a life attractive to us also have longings, sadness, pain, or loneliness. It is the human condition, and we are all in this together.
There are days I would like to howl into the Wind, or wrap myself into a hug. Perhaps because my father's birthday is three days after mine, there are small, trembling sorrows...perhaps because so many little earthquakes are happening around me lately...who knows. Tomorrow, I will get back up and wrestle the world and smile a true smile, for life IS Beautiful, even if it makes you humble, even if it makes you quake and bow in front of it.
I have lived a Life that Never Was, too. I've no true career to speak of. No family, heck, not even a dog at this point. There are possibilities, though--always out there. And perhaps next week, next month, and most certainly next year, there will be adventures...heck, I aim to lasso a few adventures in a day or two, if possible.
But there are days of feeling blue too...For healing, I have broken out old and dusty pencils and paper; I have not touched one artist's material for almost all of this year. But...this was a special work. It didn't matter the method of the work, I wasn't focused on stylizing it, as with some of my other little art efforts. Here was simple drawing the way I'd done it as a girl.....And, the beauty of this moment is that I could make My Bear Prince Father hug me, ever still.....
I write this to you as a friend, one who wishes the best for you, even when it is tough. Even when life seems to have passed you by. I suppose finding peace is the best way to put it, and being "ok" with whatever you have. For indeed, most of us are blessed in the world, even on our worst day.