I’m trying to access a part of me that feels like it died a long time ago. I’ve been writing since I began actively trying to access my feelings. Thinking back to those days, 20… maybe 25 years ago, my blogging helped me access beautiful parts of life, of myself, it shifted the way I existed. At some point in time I became scared of it, scared of accessing the parts of myself that this allows. I know when, but that’s not what this is about.
I don’t really know what it’s about, because this one is a homework assignment. A draft, an attempt at something different. When I write I usually “go away” . I don’t have to think about it, I start typing and the words flow and aside from needing a few edits, there isn’t much else to do. I’ve always been that way, but now I am working on a new practice, accessing a different part of myself, closer to the one that existed when I wrote my first blog. I want to access the beauty, the happiness, the awe of the world again. I want my words to inspire, not from a place of getting through hard things but instead from joy, lived. To retrain my trauma-informed lizard brain, a new creative standard. I want to see if I can regain access to the girl who saw the world with wide eyes, a big heart, and a bigger soul. Not just access, I have that, I am still her – but I want to find her in the depths of my creative, in my words, in the moments writing gives me that remind me that at my core, before I became afraid, before the world turned on me, I had something special. A creative depth that I lived in. I did not have it only because the world can be ugly, I had it because my soul has always known that death is a catalyst, and while those versions of myself have died, they have not left nothing. Rather, the memories are an anchor, the ashes a fertilizer. I am not dead inside, but buried. What has grown over the years has not always been flowers, but I do think it’s time. Let’s give it a go with a favorite.
The Sunflower: late summer, full bloom – there’s a spot at a park in town that is filled with sunflowers. I remember skipping and running around. I was with someone, but that doesn’t matter. I didn’t touch the flowers, I didn’t smell them. Only witnessed, walked, breathed. A pep in my step, smile plastered on my face. Heart calm, and warm. The sun was setting, summer air but a fall smell sneaking into the breeze. Life was okay, at best. But the moment, the presence, the serenity – unforgettable.
