The Little Note That Could

I ran across a few of my journals, digging through boxes in the garage tonight. They were all there - over twenty or thirty books, I would imagine. But the ones that popped out tonight went back to the years between 2005-2007. I would have been 29 years old in 2005. I vaguely remember each book and the times recorded within until I leaf through the pages a bit. This book opens with a fortune from a fortune cookie on the very first page, which reads: "Someone who deserves special attention awaits your magic voice." Hmm... seems like a good enough start.

The very next page, my first official entry, is dated November 1, 2005. All Saints' Day. An auspicious time. I wrote a poem to set the mood...

"It's going to be a long,

cold winter...

and so I have re-lit the fire

of my own spirit ~

indeed, of my life ~

and must depend on her

alone

to keep me safe and warm.

I have not wanted to do this.

I have searched for another

searched many others

to provide for me this sanctity, and nurturing.

Alas,

none can do this but me.

And so I pick up the thread again ~

the thread which is the fabric of my life ~

alone, in darkness. My self.

I've spent too long in the Underworld already,

but the box of beauty must be close now,

closer than it's ever been.

I am on the right road ~

my path, at last.

Now, where is that Persephone hiding?..."

It struck me to read this and register this particular moment in my life. I know exactly from this one entry what lies in my own writing on the pages to come. This was a particularly bad year. This was after a most traumatic ending of a relationship I refused to part ways with. This was me after having a nervous breakdown and being hospitalized. This was me at 95 pounds.

As I turn the page, I see the next entry is a two-page letter to one of my favorite goddesses, Psyche. A petition for her benevolent guidance and aid, knowing that of all my favorite deities, She would surely empathize with my situation. For She, too, was the youngest of three daughters, abandoned by Her parents, left alone, waiting to be saved by another. I don't read the entry... I know the story, both stories - Hers and mine - all too well. I keep flipping pages.

Words pass by quickly: "Empty, so empty;" "high anxiety in my belly;" "eyes wide open, yet heart as dumb as a fool; "And yet, I settle. Again." Oof! It's funny how even five years later, just the little quips can make me shudder, remembering a pain unparalleled to anything I've ever experienced before or since. Even the pain of death of my beloved father was so different from this - this was sickness. Mental, emotional, spiritual rot. I shake my head in mixed shame and sympathy.

As I keep flipping, I suddenly come to a page with no writing, but two more fortunes, and a curious note. The first fortune reads: "Be what you wish others to become." The second: "A thrilling time is in your immediate future." The note, which is scrawled in a man's writing on a small, torn piece of paper, says: "Know in your heart that you are loved more than you can imagine."

Very curious, for I can't seem to place where it came from. I start to dig back a few pages, and see that I was visiting my best friend in New York at that time. Actually, I had been sent there by the man I loved - he wanted me at a safe distance, she wanted to fatten me up. For two weeks, I stayed in her home, only venturing to go outside a mere few times. I laid near her fireplace while she worked during the day, coloring mandalas, and grieving. At night, she kept putting food in front of my face, trying to make me eat, to smile, to sing, to write, to just be in her loving energy. Yes, I remember that trip. And, now, I think I remember the note too...

It was one of my last nights there, and she persuaded me to go to a nearby bar with some of her friends. I reluctantly agreed. It did feel good to get out of the house, and her friends (who all knew that I was in a bad way) were all so kind, and warm and comfortable. While we had some drinks, we took notice of some local college boys nearby - cute boys, for the most part - who, for some, as of yet, unknown reason, were wearing the most hideous, gaudy Christmas sweaters you could imagine. I mean full on. I can't remember if they were Jingle Bells or Rudolphs or what, but as soon as we noticed, we couldn't take our eyes off of them! For the first time in weeks or months, I was laughing my ass off.

I sent them a note, grade-school style, that read something like, "Dear young men, You are both very handsome and pleasant to look at, but I must INSIST you remove those hideous sweaters at once! Thank you." The boys in return got a huge kick out of the note, and we all had such a good laugh over the incident. It was turning out to be a pretty good night at the end of a pretty tough year.

Before we left, one of my new friends gave me this small piece of paper, and said that someone unknown wanted me to have it. It was the note. "Know in your heart that you are loved more than you can imagine." Just like that, out of nowhere. I'm struggling to remember if my friends maybe knew the guy who wrote it... I can't recall. But in receiving it, and at that moment when the black cloud of my thinking had surprisingly lifted in playful reverie, I really RECEIVED it.

I remember looking at that note, thinking about it before I went to sleep and when I would awaken for many days after. I taped it into my journal. It resounded a deeper truth, a deeper voice from within me that I had all but blocked out in my recent grief and despair. It was the voice of my spirit. It was the voice of my best friend. It was the voice of the Goddess... It was the voice of a stranger who in a span of a few hours was able to see something in me that I had spent months never hoping to again believe.

I love my journals, just as I love my life. The good and the bad. The painful and the blissful. I love that I tuck these keepsakes into them that are completely forgotten and need effort to remember again. I think about the last five years, and all the other losses and grief I've endured, to find myself here - really happy, and optimistic, and full of life and love for myself and those around me. I'm in a completely different place, thank God, than I was back then.

I think, too, about the people I see who are in that dark hole. People who are struggling. People who are addicted. People who are asking or not asking for help. I think about that one little anonymous note, and what it meant to me then, and in remembering it now.

I think I need to start writing my own little notes.

Choices

I don’t think a day goes by that I don’t acknowledge and give thanks for the many blessings that have been bestowed on me in this life. I have a strong mind, an able body, good health, beauty, a vast community of friends and loved ones, and many, many talents. I count them to myself in detail regularly, because, like everyone else, I have also suffered many hardships, many losses, and live with a deep, unrelenting sadness. When the difficulties are most great, and as I weaken, I have often succumbed to this sadness with wild abandon. I have battled depression my whole life, have lived in the bowels of darkness often, and have slow-danced with thoughts of death as a means to release the pain just as I pound the stage in five-inch heels to emanate my greatest joy. It’s a common story, I know. Such is the artist’s life.

In times like these, when I am most connected to my true spirit, most at peace with my daily routine, and relatively happy, I work extra hard at counting blessings. I feel that if I make the extra effort now, that when difficulties surface, I will already be too entrenched in the road of stability to be too easily swayed onto the path of self-destruction. It’s a process that continues to evolve as I continue to learn. At the moment, I feel so strong that I can’t imagine ever feeling so sick of life again. But, if there’s one certainty I’ve learned, it is that things change. What goes up must come down, and vice versa. I just keep trying to heal, heal, heal to avoid, if possible, that hungry demon that lies in wait to feed upon me when my strength of will falters.

When I think of this yo-yo dynamic in my emotional life, I am mindful of choices. One of my greatest blessings that I am always cognizant of are the endless choices and opportunities that present themselves in my life. At times, I’m even overwhelmed by the many doors that open on a regular basis. It can be downright confusing! There’s only so much time in a day, only so much energy to expend – how does one know which doors to enter, and which ones to graciously walk away from? We never know the outcome of our endeavors, and our imaginings of the end results can be misleading – projects or opportunities that seem certain and destined to go one way tragically end up falling short of our expectations. Given a few (or more) of these situations, we really begin to start doubting future opportunities – my mind will say: “Why would this work? It never has before!” or “Ha! Here’s someone else asking you to have faith – you can’t trust him! Don’t be foolish enough to take another risk!”

Getting older, I find myself in a curious predicament where I am offered more choices, and yet find it more difficult to make them. My network has expanded, my talents have grown – I am more in demand than ever! I celebrate this fact! This is what I was wishing for ten and twenty years ago when I was just starting out on my path. Back then, I would have leapt at the opportunities – well, actually, I did, which is exactly how I got burned and disappointed and disillusioned… and more discerning. I’m not twenty years old anymore. I can’t ignore the hard lessons I learned, the sadness I suffered, the desire to just quit it all, and throw in the towel for good! (Lol – I remember vowing I would “never sing again!” Like that could ever happen!) It was because of my naiveté, my innocence, my openness to try anything that I did, and was often times swindled, used, taken advantage of, and inevitably failed. The hungry demon ate for months of my life off of these failures. He became obese while I withered away to 95 pounds.

But I didn’t wither away completely. Obviously, I’m still here. Still trying. I had friends who came to my rescue more times than I probably remember – they weren’t about to let me forsake my dreams, for they believed in me. My father, too – how many road trips did that man make (cross-country even) from hearing my voice on the phone, and knowing I needed help. I needed him. You want to talk about blessings? A father’s love, a circle of friends, can sometimes mean the difference between life and death. Their love for me was a choice - a choice that humbles me everyday that I am still alive and enveloped in it.

Today, as I write this blog, there is an opportunity available to me, requiring my decision, and stat. It’s a door that I have long dreamed of entering that has never opened to me before. In it, there are great risks, uncertainties, sacrifices and hard work all awaiting me. I am simultaneously excited and filled with fear. My mind roller coasters in thoughts, and I have absolutely no idea what to do. Some friends tell me to take the plunge, leap into the void, dare to dream! Others caution that the sacrifices are too great, the risks too dangerous – they tell me to listen to my intuition. For days, I’ve been trying to listen to my intuition, and my inner voice is also confused. From my past experiences, I endeavor to be more discerning, to ask more questions, to confirm as many details as possible, to be cautious of slick-tongued promises from people I don’t know all too well. Yet, I have always been one to take a chance on a dream, for if I don’t, I will forever fester with that tired mantra, “What if? What if? What if?”

Choices aren’t always black and white – in fact, they rarely are. Sometimes, we just have to change our perspective a little bit. Maybe the lesson here isn’t to enter the door or to walk away. Maybe the lesson instead is to enter the door, but with a different swagger. This time, maybe I just won’t have any expectations. I won’t be fantasizing about the end result, thereby not setting myself up for failure. Maybe I’ll choose to seize the opportunity in an entirely new way – commit to the process as an entirely new learning experience meant to challenge me and to learn new skills (or new limitations to work on and overcome). Maybe I’ll work with a new circle of colleagues, which scares the shit out of me in many ways, but could also open new ideas and new doors for the future. Maybe the leap of faith this time isn’t even about the project so much as it is about me endeavoring to expand my self, my boundaries, and the parameters of my intellectual and creative properties. Or maybe this is me trying to talk myself into a risk I shouldn’t take. God damn!

Obviously, I remain uncertain about this decision. Tonight, maybe I’ll make a New Moon ritual – something I haven’t done in a very long time – and ask for guidance. My spiritual connection is also blessing, something I take for granted like most people, and come back ‘round to when I’m seeking help. Prayer is powerful. I believe the Universe wants to help me on my path, and sometimes to acknowledge Spirit directly, not just by giving thanks, but really investing in that relationship consciously, tells Spirit how best to help guide. Another choice I should make much more often.

Whatever the immediate choice will be, and whatever the choices in life – be they opportunities, relationships, mindsets, or what have you – and no matter how difficult it is to make them, I do take comfort that they are mine and mine alone. I will live with the consequences, good or bad, just as I always have. At the beginning and end of all our decisions is the greatest choice of all: life. I choose to keep on living and learning, through good times and bad. I choose to accept that no matter which way I go, Spirit is there to either support me or teach me. I choose to keep my overall sense of optimism that every choice I make serves a purpose. Yes, I choose life. I am content with my decision.