A Proudly Written Retrospective.
6.17.11
Everything I Am. (this one is very straight forward)
It takes a lot to be proud. More than some are willing to give, or accept in return.
First, you have to know the touch of failure, the lingering feelings which build in asides and glances cast from afar. You have to be made to feel like just being yourself isn’t enough, isn’t worth it. You have be given a reason to stand tall-a reason to find the strength to keep from falling back down. Pride; it comes in a way you wouldn’t expect, not always with the glitz and glamour. Sometimes, you don’t even know it when it hits you, they way it builds up from deep inside. It brings people together, relishing in the comfort and familiarity of ‘actually belonging.’ It shouldn’t have to take such spectacle. It shouldn’t have to take so long to realize the diamonds inside of the coals. It shouldn’t take a parade or lofting balloons, it should come easily on windy, sun-kissed afternoons. It should come like the crashing waves, perfecting the shore. And, I suppose, for some it does. It comes quietly like a smile in the night, telling them that it’s okay to be proud of who they are, who they were born to be.
For others it takes that push, that plunge right into the deep end. And for those not ready, not safe from harm, the proud ones will always be there to help pick you up when you fall. They’ll be there when you’re ready to heal, ready to feel the way you were meant to-not cloaked in shadows and trepidation. They’ll be there, with the glitter and the gems, the crowns and balloons, but most importantly, all that aside, they’ll be there. They’ll be accepting. They’ll help you shoulder the guilt-shelve the hurt. They’ll put their arms around you and tell that the world will always find a way to come down, but there are so many more reasons to hold your head high; most importantly, because you can.
You can choose to fall, or you can choose to hold your head up high and smile. Choose to show the world the truth and put your arms around those that wish to hoist you up, where you belong, surrounded by strangers that have climbed all the same walls. Because, that’s what it’s all about, being there for one another, being there for those that are not ready to be there themselves, telling them that it’s all okay, that one day it will all get better.
It takes a lot to be proud, and it may not seem like it at first, but after all, it’s worth it.
6.17.11
Everything I Am (II) (not nearly as forward, but about the same thing.)
The knife hurts. It twists in my gut, devouring me from the inside. The glass houses have all come tumbling down. The rules have all gone out the window. Tonight I walked the veranda, crossed the bridge and headed out into the ruthless night; all on my own. I watched the moon rise, larger than I ever remembered. I thought I heard it speak to me-a whisper on the wind. I didn’t know what it said, but I know what I felt inside. I felt myself wanting to be strong, stronger than I had been before. I told me to stay firm, resolute in my conviction and drive. It told me that I am more than what people think of me. It told me to open my heart, but never give it away. It told me to accept the heartache, and make room for more, because people will always let you down. It told me other things as well. It told me, that beside the heartache and tears something else will bloom. Something fragile, but unbreakable. Something that will reach through time and space, no matter how many days you spend crying and cold. It said that this feeling will grow, wrap you tight and make you feel safe, and finally, like you belong. Then the moon came down from the very sky, an etherial woman composed of ice. She handed me a key, told me that it would keep me strong. She said the key would unlock something inside of me that had been waiting for so long to be free. So I took the key and hung it around my neck, felt it burn against chest, night after night, saw it my dreams.
I feared the key, it made my hands trembled as it ran across my fingers. I feared what was inside. Then one day, when the sun had failed to shine and fire rained down from the sky, I cowered in shock, afraid of what would come next. The key burned hotter, scarring my flesh. I took it and placed it above the lock shaped scar on my heart. It slid into my skin, igniting my skin. The key turned, the lock clicked and I felt it, a feeling of relief coupled with a hint of resentment, wash over me. The clouds parted and world grew quiet as day turned to night, but the key would not budge from my chest.
That night I crossed the bridge once more, stepping upon unfamiliar stones of a far off world, and the moon smiled. Nice to see you, it said. I begged the moon to remove the key it had given to me. It simple laughed in return. Silly man, I cannot, for the key is part of you now, just as it always has been. Long ago, when you were so shy and fearful you made the key, locked away the parts of yourself that you feared. They were strong, they were unafraid of the world, of the light you possessed, but you weren’t ready to be shown such a world. So, you locked it all away and brought the key here, to this very river and through the key into the water, hitting my reflection square in the head-it stung a little you know? But I decided to keep the key safe and give it to you when you were ready.
Ready?
Yes. Ready to embrace all the parts of yourself. Ready to become whole once more and face the world unafraid. When you were ready to shine.
But, how do I know?
Because, you turned the key, you let it all free, you’re finally ready to be who you were born to be.
I hung my head and watched the reflection of the moon shift upon the waves as the icy woman stepped from the waters. What if I’m not ready?
You will be, she said as she kissed my cheek and tapped upon my key, shattering it into stardust. And, if you’re not, I will always be here for you, helping to light the way.
Everything I Am. (this one is very straight forward)
It takes a lot to be proud. More than some are willing to give, or accept in return.
First, you have to know the touch of failure, the lingering feelings which build in asides and glances cast from afar. You have to be made to feel like just being yourself isn’t enough, isn’t worth it. You have be given a reason to stand tall-a reason to find the strength to keep from falling back down. Pride; it comes in a way you wouldn’t expect, not always with the glitz and glamour. Sometimes, you don’t even know it when it hits you, they way it builds up from deep inside. It brings people together, relishing in the comfort and familiarity of ‘actually belonging.’ It shouldn’t have to take such spectacle. It shouldn’t have to take so long to realize the diamonds inside of the coals. It shouldn’t take a parade or lofting balloons, it should come easily on windy, sun-kissed afternoons. It should come like the crashing waves, perfecting the shore. And, I suppose, for some it does. It comes quietly like a smile in the night, telling them that it’s okay to be proud of who they are, who they were born to be.
For others it takes that push, that plunge right into the deep end. And for those not ready, not safe from harm, the proud ones will always be there to help pick you up when you fall. They’ll be there when you’re ready to heal, ready to feel the way you were meant to-not cloaked in shadows and trepidation. They’ll be there, with the glitter and the gems, the crowns and balloons, but most importantly, all that aside, they’ll be there. They’ll be accepting. They’ll help you shoulder the guilt-shelve the hurt. They’ll put their arms around you and tell that the world will always find a way to come down, but there are so many more reasons to hold your head high; most importantly, because you can.
You can choose to fall, or you can choose to hold your head up high and smile. Choose to show the world the truth and put your arms around those that wish to hoist you up, where you belong, surrounded by strangers that have climbed all the same walls. Because, that’s what it’s all about, being there for one another, being there for those that are not ready to be there themselves, telling them that it’s all okay, that one day it will all get better.
It takes a lot to be proud, and it may not seem like it at first, but after all, it’s worth it.
6.17.11
Everything I Am (II) (not nearly as forward, but about the same thing.)
The knife hurts. It twists in my gut, devouring me from the inside. The glass houses have all come tumbling down. The rules have all gone out the window. Tonight I walked the veranda, crossed the bridge and headed out into the ruthless night; all on my own. I watched the moon rise, larger than I ever remembered. I thought I heard it speak to me-a whisper on the wind. I didn’t know what it said, but I know what I felt inside. I felt myself wanting to be strong, stronger than I had been before. I told me to stay firm, resolute in my conviction and drive. It told me that I am more than what people think of me. It told me to open my heart, but never give it away. It told me to accept the heartache, and make room for more, because people will always let you down. It told me other things as well. It told me, that beside the heartache and tears something else will bloom. Something fragile, but unbreakable. Something that will reach through time and space, no matter how many days you spend crying and cold. It said that this feeling will grow, wrap you tight and make you feel safe, and finally, like you belong. Then the moon came down from the very sky, an etherial woman composed of ice. She handed me a key, told me that it would keep me strong. She said the key would unlock something inside of me that had been waiting for so long to be free. So I took the key and hung it around my neck, felt it burn against chest, night after night, saw it my dreams.
I feared the key, it made my hands trembled as it ran across my fingers. I feared what was inside. Then one day, when the sun had failed to shine and fire rained down from the sky, I cowered in shock, afraid of what would come next. The key burned hotter, scarring my flesh. I took it and placed it above the lock shaped scar on my heart. It slid into my skin, igniting my skin. The key turned, the lock clicked and I felt it, a feeling of relief coupled with a hint of resentment, wash over me. The clouds parted and world grew quiet as day turned to night, but the key would not budge from my chest.
That night I crossed the bridge once more, stepping upon unfamiliar stones of a far off world, and the moon smiled. Nice to see you, it said. I begged the moon to remove the key it had given to me. It simple laughed in return. Silly man, I cannot, for the key is part of you now, just as it always has been. Long ago, when you were so shy and fearful you made the key, locked away the parts of yourself that you feared. They were strong, they were unafraid of the world, of the light you possessed, but you weren’t ready to be shown such a world. So, you locked it all away and brought the key here, to this very river and through the key into the water, hitting my reflection square in the head-it stung a little you know? But I decided to keep the key safe and give it to you when you were ready.
Ready?
Yes. Ready to embrace all the parts of yourself. Ready to become whole once more and face the world unafraid. When you were ready to shine.
But, how do I know?
Because, you turned the key, you let it all free, you’re finally ready to be who you were born to be.
I hung my head and watched the reflection of the moon shift upon the waves as the icy woman stepped from the waters. What if I’m not ready?
You will be, she said as she kissed my cheek and tapped upon my key, shattering it into stardust. And, if you’re not, I will always be here for you, helping to light the way.