Another lesson masked as an oxymoron.

I had difficulty sleeping a few nights ago. When I finally did, I dreamt that I was going blind. It was a situational blindness that only affected me if I wasn't looking at something that I loved. At first, it was a blessing. I could only see the parts of the world that I loved. I was blind to all the dysfunction of our society and, as you can imagine, it was a relief. Since I couldn't see anything other than love in my world, I focused all my energy on that love. I relished in the beauty of nature. Cultivating love consumed my every action. I spent time playing with my dogs and falling deeper and deeper in love with everything in my new perfect world. It was such a remarkably beautiful existence and I felt as if I had finally found what humankind has been looking for all along.

Unfortunately, the rose-colored existence was temporary. The world changed. There was a dark shift and I was able to see less and less. Even things I loved seemed to turn and I could no longer enjoy all that which had brought me so much peace and clarity before. I could no longer function by myself so a friend from high school came up from Florida to help me out. After several failed attempts at resorting my eye sight, we decided that the only possibility of living a functional life was traveling down to the Florida Keys. Surely, my beautiful niece and nephew, my brothers, my parents, palm trees, and horizon-to-horizon ocean views would overwhelm my senses with so much love, there would be no option but for me to be able to see again.

The drive down was as expected. Dark and confusing. I knew we were in South Florida when I smelled the briny salt air. One of my favorite feelings is stepping out of an airplane into the intense, sticky, humidity of South Florida. I love the smell of the ocean meeting the land. I love the viscous texture of the air reverberating in my lungs. As we drove through the everglades, my vision would flash in and out. Glimpses of the knotted and gnarled flora, worn down and hardened by the intense sun, hurricanes, and brackish water were infrequent.

When I was in high school, Hurricane Wilma came through and all the plants in the Keys died. Everything was brown and dirty. I remember feeling like that must have been what winter looked like in the rest of the world. Turns out it was, but on a much smaller scale. I remember hating it.

In my dream, this is what the Keys looked like. It wasn't the paradise I was hoping for. I could see some, but for the most part I was still blind. Even the ocean wasn't the same. It was as if the water of the ocean was dying on a molecular level. I had this intense realization that I would never be able to experience the beauty and love of the world the way I had when this first began. Eventually, I was fully blind, navigating a dark world that held no love. I wept from my core and woke up with a tear stained pillow early the next morning.

I can't shake the loneliness that dream brought. The isolation of being trapped by my own senses and the terrifying feeling of a life without love.

This weekend I had a lot of soul-searching to do. My life is in transition and, while I know that all will fall into place just as it is meant to, I am scared. Paralyzed by fear, actually. I am afraid to make the wrong decision and end up trapped. I know that everything happens just as it is meant to, and I know that I am in the exact place I need to be, but that doesn't mean that the fear of ruining my own life isn't a very real experience.

Today, I made a decision. One that I stand behind and one that I know was right for me. I very seriously considered changing my mind, right down to the last moment. Before I officially decided, this dream came back to me once again. I knew that I needed to make this decision from my heart. This decision doesn't necessarily “make sense” on paper, but I know that it was made from a place of love. It very well may have been the first time I have ever done something purely out of love for myself. 

It's an interesting oxymoron. Selfishly selfish. Put your own mask on before assisting others in a plane crash. Leave your child with a babysitter so you can rejuvenate and ultimately be a better mother. Take a break from work so you can come back and be more productive. You have to take care of yourself before you can successfully take care of others. You can't be in love with someone else unless you are in love with yourself. This is one of the most difficult and important lessons I need to learn. I have a feeling situations like this will continue to pop up until I know this selfish selflessness as an old friend.

I know that if I am living in a world of darkness, I am unable to shine light into the world of others; living a life of love is the only way I can make a difference.

XO

A

Dead Letters, Doubts, and Immature Videos

Last week I spent a lot of time writing dead letters. I can remember writing these from the time I was young enough to both have feelings and string together words in a somewhat coherent fashion.

I've written dead letters to:

People I have a crush on.

People I have been in or am currently in a relationship with.

President's of the US of A.

My family.

Co-workers.

Friends.

People who have inspired me.

People who have hurt me.

People I don't even know.

People who make me feel insecure.

People I am too afraid to talk to.

People not yet born.

Most likely you.

And most often, myself.

(I also have a vague memory of writing one to the “Candy Makers of the Universe.”)

According to my current crush, a man named “Google”, a dead letter is: a letter that is undeliverable and un-returnable.

I write these letters so I can express how I really feel without the consequences of the other person knowing. Whether it be saving myself from embarrassment, not really meaning what I am presently feeling or unwillingness to officially commit a class D felony under United States Code Title 18, section 871 (thank you, Google, you dashing young thing). I write these letters so as not to harbor any unnecessary feelings. Sometimes I write the same letter over and over again to the same person, in hopes that one day I will be able to adequately say what I really mean. And sometimes I write these letters because it is the only thing that quiets the screaming of my own voice inside my head.

Last week I spent hours one evening sitting at my desk writing lists, crossing items off lists, re-writing items, writing down goals, writing down hopes, writing down poems I remembered, writing down poems that don't make sense and mostly writing a huge pile of dead letters. The intention is to read each letter one more time then burn them and never write that person another letter ever again.

I admit if someone had been spying on me that evening it is likely they would have questioned my mental sanity. By the time I was finished, half the floor was scattered with incomprehensible, tear-stained scribblings. I did my best to exclude any use of the word “hate” but I'm pretty sure I used every synonym and possible replacement. However, at the end of each letter I made sure to write a wish for that particular person. For some, I wished them peace. For others, I wished them truth. But for one, I wished she would learn how to be a good person. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't bring myself to find any sort of positivity in this letter.

In a world that hinges on negativity I tend to put effort into cultivating positivity in most situations. I believe that you can be depressed while smiling and standing up straight, but I also believe it would be advanced. So I really try very hard to look for the light in the dark. But, when it comes to this person, I cannot even be thankful for all the invaluable lessons I learned from the pain she caused me.

What does that say about me? I can generally talk and walk a pretty good “power of positivity” path. So why can't I be the good person I spend time nurturing when I think of her? Of course I have a long way to go on the path of turning into the type of person I eventually hope to be and maybe this is part of that particular journey.

This isn't going to be one of those really profound entries, where I talk about a revelation I had or some sort of completion. Truly, this is more of a question.

How far have I really come on the road of personal progress if I cannot find one nice thing to wish for this girl?

Am I a good person if I openly admit that I don't believe there is potential in this person?

Is it weird if I say out loud that I believe she is the worst parts of who I am in one terrifyingly dangerous package?

Do I really believe that there is good in every single person, just waiting to be nurtured and begging to be let out?

It took me a few days to write this down and build up the courage to post it. I worry that admitting these less than kind feelings proves something about me that I am terrified to be true. I realized this morning that while there may be parts of me that need work, the important part is that I am paying attention enough to know. My teachers would say to spend more time meditating on loving kindness. To hold this person's image in my mind and send them love and light whenever possible. 

That seems to be a problem.
It's never possible. 

So there it is. My truths. My doubts. You don't have to agree with them because, to be honest, I don't know if I agree with them myself.

XO

A

And now to off-set that little bit of real life, I'd like to share with you the greatest video in the world. Thank you, Joe Boxer and K-Mart for this gem. No, really. Thank. YOU. 

Affirmations

Today I am giving myself a break. I give myself permission.

I am allowing myself to feel all the good that surrounds me. I will harvest that energy into the womb of creation and vibrate into the ether. I will fill myself up, with only myself, until I am full and spilling over. I am raising my vibration.

I will not allow myself to feel overwhelmed. I will catch my breath and create peace within myself. Love is my birthright. I was born into this earth a divine creature, whole, beautiful and full of potential. 

The pieces of myself are not individual, they are but parts of a whole. Addressing my life in sub-sections benefits no one, most assuredly not myself. I am whole. 

The only way to truly feel satisfied is to be satisfying. I am satisfying.

Today I let go of the past and breathe in the potential of tomorrow. I can not move forward without my eyes on the road ahead. I am open to creation.

I am allowing space in my life for new opportunities but letting go of expectations. Knowing disappointment is divinity keeping me on my path of opportunity. I am moving in positivity. 

Love flows through me, freely and without hindrance. It pours out of me to every one I meet. I have more to offer.