Thursday, January 14, 2010

What I know for sure

Things are never as they seem. This has been the story of my life. What I've concluded is that I know nothing. There is nothing in black and white; it's forever gray, but that too will change. Who I am right now is only this for the moment. Within seconds I'm different. I see things differently. I want different things and I want differently.

I'm discovering the world anew every second. I think of myself like the little kitty at my daughter's apartment who twists her head looking at a shoelace longer than I've seen anyone stare at anything. She's entranced with everything. The wind that blows up her nose is a new experience when she goes outside. She touches the brick on the wall gingerly as if it will disappear if she presses any harder.

The world is not what it seems. It never has been, but I've bought into it for most of my life: pay my taxes, balance my checkbook, go to college, get a degree, get a good job, build a retirement plan... These were constants in my life. These were things I could count on. I followed these rules and life was supposed to be good.

But it never was. I struggled over being off pennies in our business accounts. I stashed away funds like there was no tomorrow in all five of our retirement accounts. I paid bills. I went to church. I paid taxes -- payroll taxes, state income taxes, unemployment taxes, federal income taxes, and on and on and on.

I have nothing to show for all of that diligence. There is no retirement. All five of those accounts got used up before the ink was dry on the divorce papers. The college degree has not gotten me any jobs. There is no security in anything I was told was going to be my security. Having a husband didn't do it. Buying insurance policies -- health, life, term, car, homeowners, renters, malpractice -- didn't keep me safe either.

It has been a hoax. The whole thing. None of it is real. None of it has been worth losing all those nights of sleep when I tossed and turned over every little detail. Did I pay the vendors? Did I return the state's phone call? Did I put enough in retirement for federal income tax?

For years this life and these questions filled the space between my ears. It was a small, draining, and exhausting life. Running, running, running to keep up with what I thought was necessary to keep up with. Never going to bed satisfied with my accomplishments, and always feeling so empty.

Going to bed with someone whose presence made me feel worse about myself was no way to enter into my dream state either. I stayed until I couldn't stay any longer. I stayed until I couldn't take being the miniscule person I was showing up to be.

Four years without that life has turned me upside down and inside out. I've seen reality for what it really is -- fake. I've delved into the quantum realm and found home. I choose living in the world of energy and seeing it as such, knowing that what I do, what I say, who I'm with are all just reflections of me. How do I choose to show up in this flexible, malleable world? It's a continuous process of changing and rearranging what I do with my moments. It's seeing the world of all possibilities and reveling in it. It's feeling the joy in the air around me and embracing it, inviting it to stay.

I wake up now to watch West Wing with a dog on my lap. I drink my coffee and eat my English muffin while listening to dialog that intrigues me. Once dressed and in my studio I arrive at a feeling of intense joy, loving passion. I sit at my desk or at my sewing machine, and I revel at the happiness I feel being surrounded by fabrics, threads, and beads that I've been so attracted to all my life. Once awakened, there's nothing stopping me to delve into what could come from my imagination at that moment. What garment, what piece of art, what writing, what illustrations, what next? It's all one moment of discovery after another. It's pure bliss. It's abundance at its finest. It is heaven as only I can know it.

Staring at the piles of fabrics, the threads heaped, and the boxes of flowers I've fashioned with scraps and beads, I feel blessed. Looking at the aprons I've designed for a wholesale customer makes me feel like a genius. What degree? What job? What anything? Because looking around this room at every art book, every basket of paints, all the clear containers of spools of thread, and rainbows of fabrics, I know what wealth feels like. I know what joy looks like. It is me in this very room surrounded with all that jazzes me. There is no greater wealth, no finer empire than where I sit right now typing on this keypad surrounded by my yards and yards of fabric. And this I know for sure.

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