There's a certain magic to abandoned places.
There's whispers in the air, and endless spiders and sparkling dustmotes dancing hypnotically in the slowly drifting beams of sunlight. Your skin tingles with the sensation of another Someone, waiting, listening, breathing, right around the corner. But there's never an answer when you gently call out, except perhaps your own small voice, even smaller now on it's return, in reply.
The broken glass and wilting wallpaper, the illegible graffiti tags and random litter - the used condoms. .. seriously, you admire their dedication to safe sex.. well.. safe-ish sex - the couches thick with literal decades of dust, all silently speak of the hundreds of footsteps that happened in this once loved place. There's a Purpose and there's an Intention behind every brick in the mantel, every heavy, velvet curtain, every molding around a door frame, and that purpose up and left years and years ago.
Things change, and reasons die.
And we leave these places abandoned inside of all of us.
Now the weeds grow taller than the windows and the mosquitoes thrive in the thousands. And, this is Texas after all, everything is bigger here, and the mosquitoes embrace this just as fully as any one. What was once a Destination is now visited only by curiosity, trepidation, excitement.. and fear.
It's in these abandoned places that we face ourselves.
It's in these abandoned places that we bring to life our fears, and it is here that we slowly turn, we breathe deep, we feel our hearts beat as we stand in hushed awe and, with great courage, it is here that we also find our faith.
I am doing my godamn damnest to find faith through my fear, in all of my abandoned places. And honey, there's a lot of them.
There's that hole in my heart, from the deep rejection I received over and over again as a child. I have to visit that. I have to.
This abandoned place cannot fill itself.
It needs me. It needs my love. It needs my faith.
It needs my faith that I am worth loving.
There's a pit in my stomach from all the beliefs I cultivated, like heavy, thorned vines through a beautiful field of daisies, as over and over again my loved ones abandoned me, and I became convinced that I'd be alone forever, that I deserved to be alone for forever. I'm making visits to that pit daily.
And fuck but I hate that pit.
It's full of nothing but teeth and anger and dark, dark, dark and heavy mists that blind me and pull me down deeper and deeper, drowning me, consuming me, until all I see is red and all I feel is rage. I am drawn into that pit in a heartbeat if I am not well prepared, and once inside I'll watch myself as if from a far off balcony, as I shriek endlessly to a deaf audience full of beloved faces, twisted with the thick shadows of malice. I'll remain there, unable to pull myself out, as I gasping and claw through the strong cords of what the pit is actually full of:
This pit is full of Fear.
I .. am full of fear.
Pema Chodron speaks to me through her book, "When Things Fall Apart," (a gift from my incredible, light-filled and soon-to-be-married!!! acupuncturist Emily). She speaks of a wise man who once spent all night meditating in a hut, and in the corner came a cobra that sat and watched him, all night, ready to strike.
The man did not know if this cobra was real or merely just seen in his mind, but he spent the entire night tense, tight, and afraid for his life. When the morning came though, after a night staring eye to eye with his fear, his heart opened. He found compassion, and he slowly leaned forward and kissed the cobra, before falling beautifully, peacefully, fearlessly asleep.
But here's the thing : I often feel that I am that cobra.
I feel that I am the one consistently poisoning myself as I strike my own heart with bite after rapid, vicious, merciless bite. I feel that this cobra isn't just a part of me, that this cobra IS me.
THAT is what I fear.
And in my stronger moments.. I say FUCK that fear.
And in my kinder, softer, more compassionate, more open, more awake, more human moments, I sit calmly and quietly, and I love the fuck out of that fear. Because that fear is me. And I am determined to love me, with all the endless abandoned places I am filled with. I am visiting each of them, one by one, and I am facing my fears that live there, and I am rebuilding them all little homes of love and of faith. I am transforming the fears of my monsters into the faith that I am NOT my monsters. I have to.
My life depends on it.
And this shit is fucking hard.
I am pushing myself, and connecting daily to some serious self-propelled magic, voodoo, please-god-help-me, higher power, witchcraft, sacrifices of mind and soul kinda shiot, and I am reaching for it with everything I've got.
Because if I don't..
I'm going to end up a broken bottle in a forgotten building ...
And I am going to bring everyone I love down with me. I have to have faith that I am strong enough to rebuild who I am from the inside out. Without any proof at all, I have to KNOW that I can.
So I am facing my fears.
And I am loving my fears.
The vicious beasts that haunt me that are in the light of love nothing but scared kittens, all claws and fangs, but who want nothing more than to be held, to be seen, and to be loved.
Above all, I am loving me.
And I know that I can do this.
I'm taking a trip around the fucking world. And I'm sharing everything I've fucking got along the way. My body my mind my soul, my everything, I'm sharing it with the entire world dammit. And I'm doing all of it for no reason other than the fact that somewhere deep down inside, through the boarded up windows, behind the cobwebs and past the moving, breathing, shadows...
I fucking KNOW that I can.
I HAVE FAITH IN ME.
And I'm legit just pulling that faith outta my fucking ass.. but that's what faith is. It's power without proof; and total faith is totally unstoppable. I am building that faith every. damn. day. I can do this. (And so can you.)
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