I had moments where thoughts nudged my brain to come here and to write anything, but then I shrugged and glimpsed only a frozen white page.
Last night, after the hush of the holidays settled upon me, I started to pray. I feel so compromised in my life, I am at a place where I look back and feel that I have fallen short on who I am and what I should be. Except for the wonderful children that I am blessed to have (who have made their own strong and proud paths), I wonder what I have done in this world that is strong enough to claim a stake, what is my right to a space in this life?
I am disappointed in my discipline and my gifts to this world. I feel like I have not done what I was put here to do...the real issue is, I do not know what that is! I do not have a single, solitary clue!
How does one spend a lifetime lost? Days just eaten up by minutiae and static, steadily maintaining or surviving, self soothing, fighting the past and sliding over each new day at hand with no real accomplishment forthcoming.
I had a New Years tradition of writing down the things from the year behind me that I was glad to let go of, things that I did not want to carry with me into the new and hopeful time ahead. Then I would dream and plan and write my wishes and desires for the year ahead and fold them neatly.
Next came the fire, where all of the sadness, failures, shortcomings and mishaps that I had so quickly jotted, were simply tossed in. Those scraps and tell tale failures and disappointments were quick to flash into small colorful flames that fluttered wildly before they died and transformed into dull black ash. I forgave myself for them all...
Burdens no longer, just charred scraps that quickly disappeared for this woman...who was now armed with a fresh start and dreams in a box. Planned accomplishments for new year ahead, folded and placed in that special box, my hopes and future now placed neatly, nestled on a shelf...all should be clear ahead, lets "get er done".
Only this year there was nothing! I even specially purchased the little gold paper box in the shape of a paisley tear and laid the pen and pad next to it. I could not think of what to write in order to free myself from the passed years woes and even more fearful than that, I had not a wish or a plan to pen for the expanse of the new year ahead.
As my coffee grows cold next to me, I can see the corner of that empty gold box on the shelf across the room. I think that it might remain empty this year...
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