Devil’s folly

What are these things called emotions? What is this? Who are you to have the power to wound?

Oh, this is devil’s folly to let down guards and feel and touch and connect.

Better it was to stay inside.

What madness dared me to join the living?

Be done with this weakness of burning chest and bleary eyes.

Enough. Please.



There is great value in taking time

to find the feelings and name them, to consider the dark and cloudy glass, to listen to friends who remind me that I’m in charge of my own life, to work, to play, to let the peat float in the murky bog

How much time do I get?

What do I do with this?

Unexpected. The email sucked the air from my lungs in one long exhale that has not yet ended.

Immobile. What do I do with this?

The woman who is biologically my maternal parent. That one. After fifty-two years, I finally dredge up the courage, the self-love, the compassionate words to speak my truth. At least a start of it. I finally tell her that I’m choosing myself over her and that I don’t want to play her reindeer games. I finally tell her no.

I expect a door slammed in my face like so many times before. I expect glares and iciness and yelling. I expect retaliation.

Unexpected. An open door. Honest words. Acknowledgement if not understanding. An offer of help.

What do I do with this? I am not prepared.



Note to self: never go two months without seeing those people who lift you and hold you up. Never do that again! Life is good now that I’ve spent time with the right people.


A New Lens

Today’s message is brought to you by Self Love. Actually, the message came through two separate bloggers who shared the same theme for today’s posts and through my boss who shared a message about the unique purpose that fits each of us into the world. Let me see if I can make sense of my rambly thoughts.

Have you ever built a rock wall? Maybe just a stone step? Maybe you gazed at the end result, stunned by the tiny miracle. How on earth did the builder fit those stones together? The answer lies in patience, in listening, in truly observing with an open mind and heart. Each stone is turned and handled until it is known. Only then, is the perfect fit understood that allows that stone to rest and hold its place among others.

My recent rock work was not so zen. I started out fine; the rocks worked together reasonably well and I built a self contained step to aid hikers climbing the trail. My step was solid, with an even top, wide enough to receive the hiker’s tread. The trouble came with connecting the step to the whole of the trail. I needed to anchor each step into the hillside and the last piece to connect a step with earth always eluded me. I chiseled and fussed and hunted new rocks until I finally completed a step solid enough for horse traffic. It took me days to complete the five steps I built. By the end, I was tired and not entirely certain I’d done a good job. What would it have been like if I’d spent more time observing and less time doing? If I’d built only three steps instead of five, would they have been better steps? Would I have appreciated my own work more? I think so.

Have you caught the analogy yet? We’re the rocks. You, me and the two bizillion other humans on this planet, we’re always trying to figure out how we fit, what our purpose is, whether we got it right. We need to take more time to truly see and know ourselves and each other. Then, we’ll understand how well we already fit.

I was challenged, recently, to write fifty amazing things about myself. I didn’t succeed…yet. My list grew longer today, when I was able to see myself just a bit more clearly than before. To explain, we need to visit my childhood.

I am an empath. I often feel what others feel, discerning the discord between what they say and the emotions they try to hide. I’ve often been able to pull those feelings into myself and return them to a person as something different, something calmer, less painful. Imagine a small child, so sensitive to others’ emotions, raised in a home of abuse and neglect. Confusing to say the least. My family taught me that feelings were an offense worthy of painful punishment. I learned to lock my feelings away in a dark tomb. I learned to observe others without being seen or felt, to always know my environment while staying hidden. I cloaked myself so well that, years later, it was difficult to find my own emotions when I wanted to call them.

Before I called to my own emotions, I attempted to use my ‘gift’ for a brief time. I was trained as a healer and I believe I did bring comfort to some people then. As a healer, I was taught to keep my own emotions in check and focus on the person I was trying to help. I blossomed during this season, receiving good vibes from my teachers and those I helped, when I only did what came naturally to me.

As you might imagine, I was setting myself up for a disaster. How could I be a healer when I hadn’t even looked at my own wounds, let alone tried to heal them? Unwittingly, I drew ever more troubled people into my life. I didn’t know why they were drawn to me. I didn’t seek them out. They just found me. (This is what I truly believed.) When disaster finally struck in wave after crashing wave, the tide sucked all of life back out to sea, leaving me behind.

I watched as those I’d helped sailed off to happiness while I was left behind. I resented those who’d sucked me dry and hated myself for being such a fool. I locked myself down. Completely. I swore that no one would ever use (abuse) me again.

On the surface, I had a decent social life. I balanced myself between hanging with good friends and exploring the world as a single person. I’ve had some pretty darn good solos. But something was missing. I had no connection to another human. Not really. Everything was on the surface. The empath craves the deep. I realized that it was time to learn my own depths and try to heal my past. Only then would I be able to connect with another human.

For the past two years, I’ve done exactly that. Deep soul searching and therapy have helped me dive in and discover what I’m all about. I didn’t like what I found. That same person who only attracts the weak was still reflected back to me. I began to see some of my good traits, but it was as though they were contaminated by a covering of shame. No one would ever be able to see my good parts under all of that oily slime.

Until now. Three lovely people let splashes of Dawn fall into my slick and broke through. With their help, I finally embraced what I’ve heard a million times. Compassion is a gift. My natural instincts as an empath and the pain of my past open me to see and know another person’s pain. And really, isn’t that what we all want? To be seen? To be known? I can do that. Sometimes, just listening and sometimes encouraging, sometimes being a thirty-second bright spot.

Now is different than before. Now, I acknowledge my own feelings instead of hiding them away. Now I understand that I need others as much as they need me. Now, I begin to see how I fit into this world. Being able to help another human is an amazing thing, something I can love about myself.


Nothing Changes

I sat with the moon last night and I’ll sit with her again in another twelve hours or so. I thought about celebrating change, about recent choices I’ve made and how they affect my life. The more I thought about change, the more I realized that everything feels the same. The external shifts as I grow more comfortable in my own skin. As if in the scenes of a play, my costume and face evolve and the supporting characters enter left and exit right. And yet, nothing has changed. The earth is still the stage upon which I move and live and breathe, learning the role of my life. The moon still hangs in the same sky and counsels me with silence. I still sit alone beneath that moon and bare my soul as I have done since I could walk. Everything and nothing has changed.


Messy Mind

It’s messy up in here today. My mind is bouncing around with thoughts of gender and how it’s been defined over the centuries and how someone who today identifies as trans would have defined themselves a hundred years ago. Thoughts of parthenogenesis and FTM’s who carry pregnancies. Thoughts of eugenics and who gets to decide what genes are good to keep. Thoughts of Patriots and how that word is used and abused. And what if we could design a species that required no gender and knew no hate. Would that be a good thing or not?