It is the harkened destiny that whispers to our soul. It calls out from the darkness the deep longing that life, expectation, and demand have thwarted. It is not a right, but a deep seeded privilege to say yes to our deepest longings. Our callings to truth and love.
She sits quiet and hungry. A soul longing. Each day a journey to perform, to be something better. The weight of it wears at her and chips so softly away until she is eroded. The once pretty face, turns a dull eye. The once wild adventurer, lies quiet, still. Always looking for something, she has forgotten the joy that comes from being alive. Then a whisper stirs her. Hands deep in the suds of a dirty sink, she stares blank out the window. The budding trees have ceased to stir her. Though she walks and drinks, she does not dream. What is fun, what is joy, what is the secret of the wind. She has lost it in duty and performance. Her children clamor at her feet, but she does not turn or blink. Their cries are silenced in her misery. She reaches down in rote care, a shell of a person.
“Come alive, my darling” The words swirl through her busy mind. Things to do pile high and she cannot attend their gentle prompting.
“Enjoy your life, my sweet one.” It is an annoyance, a deep longing that she has grown accustomed to dismissing.
Her life is a duty, her love a sacrifice. She cannot remember or acknowledge the one she was before. Marriage and children, once her great desire, have come as a hurricane, leaving her fragile soul in shatters beneath their demands. Once so strong, she has succumbed to the allure of martyring herself in order to meet the needs of those she loved. She believed her worth to be that of a servant and sold her soul for the price of love. But each act become a death blow and she died in service to those she cared for most.
Never what was wanted.
Her great sacrifice, her gift, a robbery of life and love.
No one wanted her clean home, her perfect meal. They wanted her. They wanted her voice in their ear. They wanted her perfume on a hug. They wanted her dance, her chase, her laughter.
They wanted her soul to shine so rich, so deep, so bright - that she could inspire the living to be free. That her love could break the chains of shame. That guilt could not stand in the freedom of her being.
It aroused her, where she lay, head down on the ashes of her day.
“Awaken my beauty, arise my love - your living is better than your death. Come, let me teach you to live.”
Her fragile soul sunk back from the longing to acknowledge it’s need. Shame pushed it down and she lifted a brave face, defiant, “I don’t need anything.”
His hand cupped her cheek, his sparkling eyes smiled into hers. “Only the brave, acknowledge their need. Only the fearless know how to heal. It is not strength to serve. It is strength to love. Love is not service, it is tea parties and fun. Love is not perfection it is acceptance of each moment offered. Love says yes to the needs of your heart. When you love yourself enough to give it what it needs you won’t have to snap in anger or fear. No one can rob you, only you can choose to give. Come alive. Love yourself. Learn to care for yourself in such a way that your needs fall away and you give to others from your more than enough. This is my wish for you.”
Gentle his lips brushed against hers.
And he was gone.
Left on the edge of the cliff of her life.
The warm wind swept up the grassy hill and the weight of spring filled her nose.
She twirled, arms wide. Each breath a hitch of sting as she wept for her dreams. Wept for the shame that had covered her weary soul.
Then quiet she sank of the grass, the sun warmed her. And she said a quiet
Today, she would rise again. Needing only the love that came from being true to herself.