Thursday, February 26, 2009

You may call me Ishmael...

Actually, you may call me anything you damn well please. Who I actually am is immaterial. I am Seeker, Heathen, Sinner, Saint, Virgin, Whore. In other words - just other divinely human, humanly divine PERSON attempting to make sense of the movie I'm watching that I like to call "MY LIFE."

I had a blog once. It was a good blog. It meant a lot to me, but I abused it. I used it to track a personal journey, including many lifestyle options, issues and changes. And I abused it, under-estimating the power of the blog. I assumed that no one read it, that the blog and I had our own little thing going. Oh, maybe occasionally someone would stumble across it, someone searching for some keywords in my blog, but for the most part, nah. Just me and my blog, and maybe a few random strangers, occasionally a friend. So I made the mistake of assuming anonymity, and I made the mistake of being too descriptive. I used my blog to rant and rave about people near (and some dear) to me, and they found me, and they found themselves, and they weren't happy about it. Needless to say. And the blog, once my dear friend, rose up and bit me like a rabid dog and I had to put it out of its misery. The blog is dead; long live the blog.

I regret it. I really do. If I could go back in time, I would never have written that post, or I would have written it without the descriptions and kept it neutral. But I DID write it, I DID post it, and I DO have to suffer the repercussions. People are hurt, by my unwilling hand. I know that they are doing the best they can do to cope with and heal their own issues, and I had no right whatsoever to post anything about their struggles. That they read it is sad and tragic; had they not, it would have all blown over and things would have continued on.

But the truth is: I DIDN'T WANT IT TO CONTINUE ON. I was at my wit's end. I was looking for catharsis - not at anyone's expense, I wasn't laughing at people, I was simply relaying my experience and my opinions, just like I'm doing now. But I had reached a point in my own journey where I simply could not continue with things as they were, I was fantasizing of a different life, and I could not see an escape route. The tension was mounting, and I was feeling the push, that pressure of things about to change, but not knowing where the change was coming from, or who it was going to effect, or how.

I've always been a little intuitive. I've always been able to feel the imminent changes coming, even when I have had no vocabulary to describe them. So I felt this storm coming, could taste it like tinfoil. I had written the blog almost a full week earlier. No one had seen it, no one had read it that I was aware of. Then, all of a sudden, I received an emergency phone call with the demand to delete the post immediately. So I did. And then things began seriously to shift.

Within a few short hours, I went from my "happy" life - "I'm happy with this, seriously I am! I love it!" said through clenched teeth and ragged with exhaustion, to being launched into the unknown and unknowable. Will I be invited back into my "happy" life, or will I get to continue this story from another place?

As much of a total, utter human fuck-up as it was, I feel like this mistake was Divinely Guided. The truths that were told - maybe it wasn't my business to tell them, but that doesn't make them any less true. And the path that it is leading me on is my perfect path. And the path that it is leading the others on is their perfect path. That is all I know. Divinely Guided, and a total human fuck-up, all at the same time. I have to suffer the human repercussions, because that is how we humans work, and I am taking those punishments willingly. I beleive my Spirit orchestrated this move to operate so smoothly to give me what I so desperately needed: rest, sunshine, room to breathe, and a chance to re-assess where my life had taken me. And it has given the other people a chance to function without me. It may well be that their lives are much better off without me. Or not. It doesn't matter. On a human level, looking at this small picture of the future ahead of me, it's really scary. What will I do, how will I survive? But I trust and I have faith that I will be taken care of.

Please do not misunderstand: I am deeply, deeply sorry for the hurt I have caused people. The internet is NOT YOUR JOURNAL. Do not think it is. Despite my efforts to disguise by not using names or genders, too many people knew who my old blog belonged to, too many people were able to recognize themselves. Would it stand up in a court of law? I don't know, don't want to know. My first amendment rights are not going to be tested in this situation if I can help it. And as I've wandered around today, I have continued getting the same message: WRITE. Do not be afraid to write. Writing is a gift that I have been given that I have always been afraid to use, afraid of leaning on for my survival. And now I am hearing that the gift that pulled me away from shore is the gift that will save me if I just keep using it. Don't be afraid of the boat or the current, don't be afraid to paddle.

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