mister lincoln, my front yard
“We are all substantially flawed, wounded, angry, hurt, here on Earth. But this human condition, so painful to us, and in some ways shameful – because we feel we are weak when the reality of ourselves is exposed – is made much more bearable when it is shared, face-to-face, in words that have expressive human eyes behind them.” – Alice Walker
The week is over and my body is re-centered. After sharp pains bringing chaos, I had a prescription of hot toddy and acoustic guitar and some other newness to keep me company. After a week of being pulled from side to side, end to end, I allowed myself to spring back. I’m not whole every moment of every day, but I am getting better at letting others help me regain that spring in my step when I get those feelings of wanting to hide away.
Not that hiding away is a bad thing. Delicious little vacations away from the world can be good. Nourishing. But I also know when I am running away versus facing those bitingly sharp angles. Like those awful sideaches when you run or walk and forget to breathe, the only thing to cure them is to breathe MORE. Slow the breath, but still breathe.
I felt a piece of my heart get stolen away one day and I didn’t want to admit it had happened. When it comes to my heart I am a warden, and feeling soft and slippery and exposing my soft underbelly is a rarity. I’m tough. I’m hardcore. I’m not gonna let you get under my skin. I’m gonna be cool no matter what – never let em see me weak. Hellllll no.
But I took a chance and allowed it to seep out. Courage and a little fractiousness one day made me question why the hell NOT? Why can’t I have exactly what I’ve been looking for in this life? That exhalation, that wonder, that dreamy faraway smile that comes when you no longer want to hold the focus, and just be. I can’t explain it. I’m a woman of instinct, of powerful nature, a woman, as a former love once told me, ‘who runs with the wolves’, a bohemian.
"The Bohemian is not, like the creature of society, a victim of rules and customs; he steps over them with an easy, graceful, joyous unconsciousness, guided by the principles of good taste and feeling."