Stumbling through the undergrowth.

I wandered away from the central hub (a.k.a. the living room) and into my home away from home, the office. It's not really an office, but it houses my computer, bill paying materials, school supplies, and piano. I'm in here a lot.

I was contemplating where I am, emotionally/mentally. It's a bit of a train wreck, honestly. I was wondering what the darkness inside of me would say if given a voice. [Thank you, latest Dr. Who episode.] And then it struck me, the darkness has a voice. I hear it when I close my eyes, late at night, and the weight of my failures sit on top of my chest so that I can't breathe.

Into the midst of this, music came forth from the hub. I'm not sure what's playing, or why it was chosen, but it draws me out of my head and into someplace a bit more tangible. Like the safety rope that just snapped taut - and I am grateful.



Safely

There's a beat in my soul, a voice in my head, and they spin
Out of control, driving towards the cliff.
I don't jump; I merely fall, and bloody my hands attempting to arrest the descent.
The plants are shallowly rooted, the rocks loosely packed, the fear mind-numbing.
In the moment I embrace humbleness and resignation I find myself lying on solid ground and wonder
Which part was the dream
So that I can hold on forever.


There's an Over the Rhine song "When I Go" that comes to me often in these times. It says more than I can, which is why OtR is living and breathing their poetry instead of trying to forget it ever existed. The song is hauntingly beautiful and I could cry every time I hear it. And today, like so many days, I think of the line "I'm not letting go of God, I'm just losing my grip" I'll let you take your own thing from that, not mine.