How do you break out of a cage? And not just any cage – a psychological cage. When silence becomes the norm, your psychological oxygen is being taken away. You’re gasping for air, you can’t breathe, you can’t think straight, all you can do is panic about how you are going to breathe again. I have wondered time and time again. Where does freedom come from? Is it money? Is it fame? Is it the acceptance of those around you? What is freedom and how do you get it? I thought long and hard about it. I have tried to find it every way I could and I was led to one simple answer: freedom lies in the truth and nothing but the truth can set you free. So what do you do if you feel like telling the truth creates a bigger target for you? What if telling the truth sets you free but ruffles feathers? You tell your truth anyway. Persistence and consistence take the lead with a truth teller. Liars can lie as much as they please but the truth is strong and can take down false idols. Most liars end up destroying themselves as they try to destroy others. People who tell the truth always end up in better situations, regardless of the consequences.
I was talking to my neighbor yesterday and he was talking about how a rabbit killed his plants by eating all its leaves. I asked how that worked. He told me that the leaves are \ the lungs to the plant, it helps them breathe. Without them, they perish. Your mind is a garden and there are many plants that help grow your psyche to serve you. Taking away your truth, is like taking away your lungs. If you want to be free, tell the truth, and leave.
Rebellion is an interesting concept to me because we all do it every day. Light rebels against dark, and dark against light. Love and hate is the battle of all battles, and we are entering a new one right before our eyes. I have watched as people blindly trust in what they sense safety is lead them straight into the wallowing depths of hatred only to be destroyed by themselves. I have seen those filled with love rage at the abomination of the hatred they recognize and know is wrong. I think sometimes in life you have to be a rebel. If not for the greater good, but for your own soul. Not everyone is going to stop and take a second to think what does God think of my actions? And you need to. Someone told me recently something that peaked my interest. They said, the devil himself could misuse scripture to fit his agenda. Which also makes me think there are people who think they are Godly being racist, when in reality they are simply being demonic and covering themselves with a white cloak. Love is usually quiet and hatred louder but even loving people can be provoked to rage through unjust treatment. I have been other peoples target before and I know how confusing and hurtful it is. Thankfully I could get away from that group of people and do something else. I wasn’t targeted by a nation. I could only imagine the helpless feeling of being seen as “bad” just for the color of your skin. Rebellion matters. Don’t be confused by the tone of the word, sometimes rebellion is a mask for conviction. Rebellion has always had it’s place in history moving us forward and evolving out of a lesser being. I look forward to my own unique form.
I’ve got roses in my head, the thorns were the hardest part until they bloomed. My heart took the heaviness in my brain, dropped down eighteen inches from the thorns popping out the hot air carrying all your lies. It’s so nice to feel alive without you. Trying to sympathize your madness runs me dry. And I never cry, and if I do it’s when I’m all alone. So crying in front of you today isn’t something I can let go of. I couldn’t keep up in this race, you were running free and I was struggling. To cry about this clears the skies in my mind, I see the sun for the first time, you always lied. Trying to trust you ran your chances into overtime. And I know they say the truth hurts and that beauty is pain, so I guess that means the person being blessed by you leaving is me. Life taught me especially up till now that pain brings floods and droughts, surviving gives you more than clout, it gives you a life filled with beauty you could never manufacture, it is homegrown. So maybe it’s good that it stings. I hear it in my voice when I sing.
Why is it that when we ask God for something, things get worse? Why do you feel even more afraid than before and unsettled when clarity comes for what you want? Maybe because to get to where you want to go, you have to be a stronger person to stand there. We never get anything we can’t handle, and maybe you need to grow before you get it. Maybe there is something you need to heal to appreciate what was made for you. Maybe you need to let go of shame to not self sabotage a good thing when it comes. Maybe you need to stop worrying about your mistakes and instead praise God you get to grow out of them. I don’t really know. I know the soil is dark, the rain is cold and the sun can burn, but at the end of the harvest, you will be made whole. Not only that, your experience will feed others, and sustain them. So who are you really to dwell in difficulties and past mistakes? Who are you not to let your heart soften and let the ground grow life out of the most tender piece of you? Strength to me, is a very soft and surrendering thing, like rose petals. They grow so weak and precious, yet are never destroyed in the elements. Nothing that hides in shade grows. Not a damn thing. And nothing that grows doesn’t hurt. But in the end, those who stand and be seen, and take the beating, end up flourishing out of pain. And thats not someone you can easily destroy.
The well runs deep within me. The water ran low. I was trying to operate at the surface level and I drained without the water I needed. I could have been mistaken for the opposite of what I am when I was starving in my bones. If I wanted to see the world, I needed to lift the waters to reach me, so I could see them, and they could see me. So I crawled out, and with every ounce of bravery I could find, I climbed lightening up into the clouds and broke them open. I watched the rain fall. The rain rose flowers, and the well brought me back to full figure as I was no longer thirsty, I was full.
In waking hours, when you think you filled my memories, I take back to my own senses and I start to breathe. Some how I let you feed off of me like the vampires do in a waking nightmare, electrifying my nervous system to wake breathless in a dark room all alone. Why did I never think I could not leave you? Why did I think you had anything to offer me? You drained my sweetness but unlike the bees you didn’t even bother making honey, you didn’t even use it for yourself, you just poured it out on the ground as if it were nothing. You never knew I had fields of wildflowers in my brain, and even though you may try to cut them all down and pluck them individually, they will always rise again, and resistance will bring its strength. Devil, you and I are done, and my sweetness will return and I will live in the sun, away from you.
I have found that faith in the unknown is the most sobering and lively state a person can posses. I saw something today that said people would rather be unhappy than uncertain, but I think people are most beautiful in uncertainty than in unhappiness. I think uncertainty is necessary for life to bloom. Otherwise, you wither and dry out, maybe even suffocate. So even in the realm of uncertainty where fear can ignite like a house fire in seconds, it is also privy to be aware of how beautiful and full of life you are in these moments. Give yourself the gift of faith, because it really is a gift.
You can’t break water, even though it may shatter as ice, the sun will rise to melt the shards back to water as it is meant to be. You cannot harm it, there is no device of mankind that can disrupt water. Even when it dissolves into thin air, it collects in the sky and travels back down to where it is meant to be. Water always finds her way home, through many journeys and different forms, she always goes back to where she is meant to be.
I haven’t seen the sea like this in ages. Slowly sailing through mountains of ice, I am reminded of a time long ago when I shared this place with a younger me. Going forward, I can feel the dark clouds that aren’t visible to the eye that cast over this place and the ice blue waters piercing straight through my soul. I remember cold water, I remember how it stings. I reached my hand over slightly just to feel the chill and be reminded. My nervous system lights up my entire body like an electrical circuit. Were back to the beginning of the story. Looking over the edge of the boat into the water, I can see my face, but I can also see the younger me, frozen under water. I quickly tie my hair back behind my head, hold my breath and jump in. Down into the darkening water, I see her and I grab her by the arm and she looks at me, confused at first, until her eyes light up. I tug on her arm and carry her out of cold water, until we are above the surface and I launch her into the boat, us both gasping for air. I climb in and try to catch my breath, and turn to look at her, but she has already crawled into my lap and started hugging me and thanking me for coming back for her.
The ground was evergreen, enhanced by purple flowers throughout the field. The skies grayness shed a bright light that helped my mind rediscover how beautiful the ground can be. These were new grounds that I had never seen before. My anxiousness stood still, as if my own body new this place before I did. As I drifted back down from the clouds and explored, I realized there was nothing to be afraid of. A robin stood along side me, eating in the morning with food she was given without her having an anxious thought that it would be here. Where ever I fly to, and where ever I may land, I will always be fed.