agony is woven into my soul one part of the whole one color in the tapestry of me there is much more to me than my agony but i wouldn’t be the same without it.
i am thinking a lot about balance lately. and realizing that even when i am not thinking about it, it is still present. recognizing how i need my darkness. what would i be without my darkness? probably bored. & unappreciative of the magic times. like right now.
it was the early nineties when i had the dream. i had been in therapy for awhile terrified of the dark & miserably unhappy but one day it lifted and like a light switch i was happy & no longer afraid–of anything it was around this time i had the dream was it before? was it after? are the two things related at all?
the dream was disturbing a crazy-ass dream where i was a mighty warrior a tiger and other clans would send warriors to fight me i would mercilessly slaughter them sometimes though the other clans would send me young girls to be with as a way of collecting my seed….
fucked up, right? that’s a fucked up dream for a 21 year old girl in iowa. i have been thinking about it a lot lately. wondering if the dream & my becoming happy & brave, have anything to do with each other. a past life remembering healing a present life hurting.
in the dream, i was represented as a tiger–but i was human. recently, googling like crazy, all i have been able to figure out is that tiger is representative of warriors and the such in china. so i started reading up on china’s history to see if i can figure out anything about this dream…but i find myself more drawn to the mongols, of course.
i keep looking to so-called professionals & friends, but as usual, no one ever answers my emails. so i guess i’m on my own. my own master the answer to my own question.
as well as the very first postcard being sent out to a patron!!
oh! & all of these illustrations remind me that today is the spring equinox balance between day & night…balance between light & dark…balance between rest & change. wake up, it’s time to grow happy ostara!
you are the only person
i want to be
not someone like you
(as unlikely as that is)
not someone who treats me
like you treated me
when i think of dating
i feel repulsed
when i imagine
dancing in my kitchen
waking every morning
my whole body tingles
& i swear
i must glow
with sweet longing.
writing this was easy…sharing it–not so much. so i started wondering as i tend to do. why is it easier for me to share my dark & disturbing parts?
my sad & barely surviving parts?
my anxious & depressed parts?
my struggles & shortcomings?
my feelings of worthlessness & isolation?
my oh so crazy bits?
but sharing something i wrote about love…my feelings of love…for another person…i feel like i have gone too far.
i feel like i have crossed some sort of line.
this shouldn’t be allowed!
and, to boot, it is unrequited love i am celebrating.
yuck. so gross.
why do i react to love as if it is something unspeakable? unthinkable? illogical? is this cultural/generational or is it reflective of my damage? or…is my damage also reflective of my culture/generation?
there are entire movies. entire tv series. books, poetry, and songs. all of these. dedicated to love. all kinds of love.
so why do i feel so stupid admitting that i love someone?
so in art journal psychotherapy today we have learned that i am more comfortable with & even celebratory of my darkness & my damage and will happily shove it right in your face….
but when it comes time to share my thoughts of love & devotion & romantic longing…for a man of all things…to admit that i have these feelings…then i ready myself to fall on my sword.
i find being morose a more natural & acceptable state than being dreamy.
yet i call myself quixotic and think of myself as whimsical? a puzzle inside an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.
do you see the exhausting challenge of being me? of living in my head?
in the interest of balance
here it is
a little of my yang for all of the yin
a silly love song.