The continual call to be vulnerable plagues me.
I pray a sealed soul to cure my drive.

My grieved gut reveals the call denied
is from the child they killed, who never fully obeyed and died.

Rather than ceasing as advised, her heart rebelled and thrived.

Now I place flowers on her grave, attempting to calm her cries.
Unsatisfied, skinless fingers searching for release, dig and pry.
Tearing at my insides, she never gets far, but relentless, ever tries.

The hated girl, committed to telling the story of love and life.

***

Once again, I'm short on words, unless these count.

I painted again today, but I feel a need to sit with it, and myself, for a bit. Showing up everyday feels like it is putting my life and journey on warp speed. I need to find my balance. The pace that's right for me and/but keeps me connected with everyone else.

I want connection so much, but when you've been in the dark so long it's not the easiest thing to reach for or trust. I'm also naturally just an introverted type. Showing up everyday and writing in a public space where maybe nobody is even reading feels like a big stretch!

At the library I'm the one in the far corner who has built a make-shift fort around herself with piles of books and a bunch of personal gear, usually wearing earbuds even if there's no sound coming out of them.  I'm putting in fair effort on this hike just being here at all!

But I want to be here. Oh, how I really want to know you and talk to you. If you only knew. If only I was brave enough to tell you....

It's that "calling," you know? It's scary and unavoidable.
Believe me, I've tried avoiding!

My painting today was deep and imageless. I listened to my favorite band (which is saying a LOT because I love, love, love music) and got into the flow of life stuff. I can't wait to look deeper into it and process where I am with it.  I try to remind myself it's only Day 6 or 7 or 8 and there's no rush to be somewhere. But I've actually been at this for 35 years, and life...well, life. That's what it's all about, isn't it? There are no guarantees. We can just do the best we can to never give up and keep showing up....no matter what.

Tomorrow is a new day, and we will meet again.

I'll be here God willing, and the creek don't rise.
And, maybe I'll be here even if God isn't willing and the creek does rise?

(Looks like I ended up finding more words than I thought I would. Maybe there actually is something about this "showing up" gig.)

This is one of the Cloud Cult songs on repeat in my ears (and heart) for hours as I painted today.