Seventh

I was listening to George Carlin’s “Brain droppings” as my hands were working on this… pretty little thing.

Wings. Heights. Exploration. Triumph. Limitlessness. Bliss. Faith. Heaven. Birds. Angels. Protection. Unconditional love. Courage. Surrender. Ascension. Peace. God. Freedom.

Or, as Carlin would say, “pompous bullshit”. But no, Carlin’s input on various themes had very little to do with my artistic masterpiece, other than making my mind wander beyond the confines of the little white room I was quarantined in at that time.

 

But what if my soul was trying to send me a message and my hands found a way to deliver it? After all, I’ve never done something so simple, so uncomplicated. There has to be something more to this piece than meets the eye, right? And even if there isn’t, let’s just pretend the opposite and see where it takes us.

Perhaps this is a freedom story. Perhaps there is an utter need for freedom in the world right now. And it’s been a recurring theme in my life anyway. I’ve taken down demons’ heads, removed myself from chains, took long showers to remove all the remaining blood, tears and pain, looked myself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the woman whose eyes were looking back at me. Still, I don’t.

  

Who is she? I find myself asking over and over again. How does she do it? What is she heading towards? How does she stand there fearless, staring naked and unarmed at the chaos before her? How can she be facing all these changes in her life wearing nothing but a ear to ear, self reassuring smile? How is she still at peace? Is she not human, does she not struggle with the same problems all humans do? Is she mad? Has she been possessed by an invisible force who’s been playing games with her mind, convincing her she’s become this invincible, divinely guided superwoman with a Messiah complex? Does she know what she’s doing? Does she know anything about life, how hard and burdensome and complicated it is to most of us? How dare she stand alone through all this, without ever feeling small and defeated and  sometimes like an orphan?

The woman in the mirror has become a friend. No, not “a friend”, but the best friend I’ve ever had. I often glance at her not to check how our hair looks or if our eyebrows are even, not even to put on more lipstick, but as if to say “Hey, girl, I’m proud of you for not giving up on us, not even when you had no clue why those fights were so important. I love you more than words can say for not letting our past consume and define who we are now. Thank you for having healed so we can help others heal. Thank you for your enthusiasm. I believe in us, let’s keep on becoming, I’m our biggest fan.”

  

All I know is that she’s getting better at this, whatever it is the truth she’s been fighting for. She’s looking for her own voice and if she’s too loud at times, it’s only because there’s so much to say. She’s in there, somewhere, taking things to a whole different level, taking the road less travelled, pushing the limits and she’s not waiting for anyone to save her anymore. The world is getting smaller and smaller with every revelation she has. She already has all the answers she needs at this point in time. She knows she’s already been saved a million times before. And she will be saved again, if need be. All she has to do is surrender – fearless and unmoved – to the light within.

She knows there’s no way back for her. Only forward.

Oh, how she knows.

Oh, how she keeps going!

Oh, the freedom!

Green Eyed Kisses,