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Rated: E · Book · Writing · #2253978
More musings, about writing and life.
If I just allow myself to write, just allow my words to fall, spill forth unfiltered, unfettered, and raw. Can I handle my truths? Am I strong enough to allow myself to be vulnerable, exposing myself to experiences of my past? Would it be a cathartic journey through the recesses of my mind? Or will it be a tumultuous tiptoe along brittle, broken and half-rotten eggshells, memories that have grown tainted with time? Or not?

This is a new site for me, a new step in my journey. I realised that I needed to have faith in my own ability, in my own worth. I needed to step out from behind my own shadows of fear of failure, and believe it or not fear of success.

How can someone be fearful of success? it sounds so bizarre, right? It's not actually, especially if you've grown up hearing mixed messages about your ability, or lack thereof. The words we hear as children can cast long-lasting emotional shadows over our journey through childhood and beyond. I count myself as being very blessed, lucky, rich … however you wish to describe it. Yet, I'm not naive enough to know that I went through some things other families never do.

Yes, I grew up in an impoverished childhood, but in other ways, it was incredibly rich. As the 8th child of 10 children, I learned to live vicariously, choosing to avoid some of the large mistakes my older siblings made. I learned the value of flying under the radar, especially when it was pivotal in helping save me from various childhood traumas.

There was real skill in learning to trust your intuition as a child. And I am forever grateful that I had the gift of intuition, of being perceptive, observant, aware and woke.
I could see people for who they were, and not who they pretended to be. You could say I have always had a heightened awareness and a very astute bullshit meter. This obviously had the 'negative' effect of separating me from the masses. However, I'd much rather have integrity, than popularity. I also seemed to walk just outside the pack, fit just outside the 'box'.
In a way I had to forge my own pathway through life, avoiding the pitfalls, and sadly my life was punctuated with many gaping pitfalls that tore at the very fabric of my beautiful family. Things that are too complex to go into any true depth here. Yet, issues that would benefit from being processed, and carefully penned, with the honest intention of not to offend.

What am I grateful for? My emotional intelligence, my strong moral compass that has enabled me to navigate some pretty hairy situations, two amazing parents that did their absolute best, under some very challenging circumstances. And some siblings that truly are remarkable. In particular, one sister who is not JUST my biological sister, but my 'soul sister' ... one who I would walk through fire for.

I love to write poetry … Throughout the challenging moments in my life, I have relied on the healing energy of writing, writing poetry and my deep deep love of photography. When I am looking through the lens of a camera, I fall into deep myself. I am completely inflow, transfixed, alive and connected to nature.
The camera lens is a perfect metaphor for life, the lens helps me to focus, improve my clarity and really see the magic of the moment before me. Whereas writing is a purely cerebral exercise, photography completely grounds me. I find the two help balance me as if I am some type of tethered balloon that is free to float, yet is able to remain grounded when needed.

Just because,

Indelible, intangible, mere words fail to express what is beyond definition--
The divine expression of love and being--
The human body an extension of a soul: the conduit, the connection to the core, where oneness with universe, self, and others converge.
It is a beacon that leads us forward--an experience, not fully known--effervescent, transcendent.
It is our home.
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