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June 28, 2012 / soularpowersystem

The Tour: Chapter One: Part Two: What’s in the box?

May 22. Two appointments punctuating the rest of the afternoon and evening both rescheduled of their own accord, leaving me home alone. I start going through the boxes in my storage, boxes I haven’t opened since before starting high school. Lines written then impress me now, and I see how far I have come along the perfect circle.

I have just over a week to consolidate my every belonging.

Shedding a lot of weight, letting go of all this stuff, and sure enough I am also finding bits of myself long since forgotten or taken for granted. I am unearthing my roots, and as I inspect the gadgets and gears of the mind I thought I had left behind, I am transported to a time when I couldn’t find the line between myself and the world.

Opening my eye for treasure and I can’t even measure the depth of the self I have remembered. Photos, letters, stories, poems, mementos and trinkets. Pictures of my old dog Daisy. What’s funny is that as I sit here writing these very words, there are people outside, down in the grass below my balcony, playing with a dog named Daisy. And as I marvel at the sound of her name being called I know it’s because we’re all in the same story.

This was me as an adolescent, when the atmosphere in my family home stifled my spirit to the point of torture. I internalized the angst and the frustration, and I hadn’t let it all go because I didn’t know how deep it went. I was sent here for a reason and it’s taken more than one season to wrangle a win. Even then I know my skin is thin and the ice is breaking where my soul is taking the toll I paid with the eggs I laid in the nest on my chest and the rest of the load is already sold so I hit the long road stretching before me because I can’t ignore these war cries the clear skies unending say the fire is friendly so come get warm. Whether the storm forms it’s not what we thought and its taking a lot of faith to open the gates of heaven.

If I could see me now. The voice so strong it belongs in the rafters, the feeling I am after so pure, so raw, the quintessential “aha” moment. Perfectly whole and ready to go… even if I think I am broken the mother has spoken and it’s calling my name. It’s time to change the game. So I hit the field of consciousness with all that I know of the human condition–so the very fruition of these words might peel even the toughest rind.

Behold the destruction and clear the obstruction I came here to function efficiently. The dark of my deep has kept me asleep and now I rise to the surface for air. I no longer care who’s looking or talking or even walking on my grave. I know I gave this up before. Uncover the roots of the war-torn past because at last I’m ready to face the grace that life is giving me, so buried in plot that I don’t have a lot of room to breathe so I reach in my sleeve for a card I can read as I weed the things I don’t need I can lead by example and the ample material within the ethereal is the milk in my cereal…and part of a balanced break-fast.

I am telling the story for the glory of a new dawn. We belong in the arms of the angel so get a fresh angle on the tangle of wires these tires so tired our synapses fired and fried to a crisp. Now it’s all in the wrist.

We are instruments, playing for keeps.

10-24-08 040


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