I have a new phone and with every bit of new technology comes…old memories. I was taking a look at photos from years back and thought, ‘How silly of me to think it matters…’
On the one hand, everything matters. Every person, experience and insight. And the only meaning that matters is the one we attribute to it. But there were times when I was certain my heart would explode from the joy or crumble under the pressure of the pain. It didn’t. I am still here.
So many illusions were shattered along the way. Loving that hard can kill you, I once thought. Best I not love anyone too much. Best I guard my heart. Best I don’t wish and hope too much. And still the walls came crashing down.
I attached a lot less of myself to people. Comfortable walking distance, feeling distance. Except when I sang or wrote Music. There is no distance between what I feel and who I feel it for. Music doesn’t allow any kind of lie. I thought I knew how my heart works. And then Daddy died.
Now I am grateful for everything. Every act of kindness, every bit of sun, the sea roaring, my Mother’s laughter, seeing my godsons, speaking to my daughter, every glass of whiskey shared with good friends. Life is precious and my heart demands sunlight, the rays of the moon, the warm glow of the stars on a dark night. It aches to bloom, to breathe. To feel everything without fear and risk the doubt and uncertainty.
My Mother always makes me laugh. Especially when she prays. Often times I tell her, ‘Mama, stop confessing to your white boyfriend (aka Jesus), I am sure he is tired of our nonsense!’ Yet, along with the confessions she lists all the things she is deeply grateful for. The food cooked, her school kids who behaved, the song I write and all the little joys that will find us. That’s how I choose to live, to walk through my life. With only faith and trust. It has worked out rather well so far. Especially in this last year. This is what I share with people when they find me, the light I found blooming in my Mother’s grieving heart. The light of every person I love and care for. The sun being my constant reminder that while life is, hope is.
Between me and everything else there’s only death, only fear. Even that is a lie. It’s not death that’s the road to awe, but being blissfully alive that is. And live…I will.