Freight: Day 10

withered-flower-almost

On the Eighth Day, I ventured a comment concerning the blinding cloak of Safety.

Was it a lie to say I value my liberty over my security? I had a stalker once. Twice, really, but only one threatened to abduct me. Concerned for my safety, a network of friends organized such that I was never alone. I was happy to trade my liberty for that safety.

The net result of the whole mess is that I broke a protector-friend’s heart. Security always comes at a price.

Freight: Day 9

strength
STRENGTH – XI (Golden Tarot)

In college, I feared math. I was under time pressure, always taking an overloaded course load, to frantic to sat quietly with math. I am able now (finally) to be the woman sitting patiently with the lion. Infinite attention, quiet, and patience are STRENGTH. The joy of truly understanding what I only learned to mimic is immense. I acknowledge it does not save the world. It might just be saving me, though.

Freight: Day 6

apogee

I come from a family of psychological isolationists. I have spent years, analyzing me in the vacuum of me. I wasted untold longing on wanting a purpose, and expended years of jealousy on people who have just ‘always known’ where they fit. I tortured myself with needing to know why I was. Human consciousness is not a kind jailer. Last year, I made a practice of not asking what my purpose is. In that state of non-asking acceptance, I wrote some poems I find beautiful. I lost weight, which I needed to do. I began to enjoy the things I used to feel were chores. I stopped working long hours. I engaged in activities that I enjoy, without putting the burden of Purpose on them. Ultimately, the suffocating weight of Propose is what killed my love of novel writing, that and some ridiculous idea about “virtual shelf space.”

Oh, but who hasn’t wanted to be saved by the posthumous recognition of her brilliance? Yet most of us, even me, will live and die without leaving any lasting ripples. And that is okay.

Freight: Day 3

window-closed-by-a-lattice_justice

It was this need to DO that drove me to think I wanted to be a lawyer. Law is a calling built on taking a stand. It is also built on a shit-ton of tuition debt and apparently dehumanizing work, and if you read One L by Scott Turow, more than a soupçon of  brainwashing . My two month dalliance with the law gave me the perspective that attorneys are an instrument of law, but not necessarily of justice.