A Break-Up can be a “Break-In”…
A Vision Quest for the Soul
I woke up to the sound of horses running.
Running inside my head.
Like a little boy with his toy figurines that get marched against the table's edge and crash violently into each other.
“Take that! And that! “ the toy horses say.
It’s the constant chatter of the addict's mind- the gallop from within.
It’s no accident that “the voices” seem to get louder when I am
“ in transition” right after a painful breakup!
And here I stand woman unbroken; a modern-day cowgirl with java and a suitcase in her hand.
“Just for today, I have a place to stay.” ( that’s the voice of recovery, whispering from within.)
“But you are always recovering from something!” ( that's my inner critic doing that nasty thing.)
I know these horses well.
I feel my native American low to the ground and listening… something inside me coming awake.
“This doesn’t have to be a break-up or break down. It could simply be unformed material, a blank empty canvas, a Vision Quest for the soul….”
I let that in with a sip of coffee.
When two horses appear in the pasture before me…
They strut in tandem, their slow and steady gait…
Their strong triumphant muscles glowing…
in the pink mist of the early morning sun.
I go within.
I feel the rugged wasteland. The space around the unknown; the fences around them broken; the buildings, torn like the edges of a book that's been tossed around too much.
“ Like the edges of your heart.”
“Shhh..” I raise a finger to my lip to silence them.
I’m supposed to be broken open, but I am not.
A kind of sovereignty has erected from my soul- a free fall spiral from within.
I am that horse that's walking… slow and steady… towards the gate.
I close my eyes and call in Julia- the addict guru of “The Artist Way.”
She, who had lost her way and rented a small Adobe house in the outback to call in space for her art simply because “the voice” told her to do so.
There she reported that the cows broke through her fence and pressed their exuberant faces up against her windows every morning; a benevolent reminder to the call of life again.
It was there she learned to listen to the voice of God within.
Like the slow steady trot, trot, trot..she got her marching orders.
She found herself inside the page.
“I’m here to fill the well that’s empty,” the voice proclaims.
It is The Artist call.
“WAIT! Go back to LA and take that apartment management job,” the voice of protection dictates, “so you can FINALLY have a place to call home!”
It circles around my hidden wounding, tempting me with it’s low hanging fruit.
My heart tightens. I feel the longing and with it, the realization that I built my home in him.
And feel my suitcase in my hand. “It’s time to do that trot different!”
A counter voice arises, “ Get a small table, a zafu, do yoga and write….”
“ Live open and abandoned in the uncertainty of life!”
And here I stand woman unbroken on the shores of Rosarito with my empty in my hand..
I have lived a Gypsies life, ripe with wagons and fabric all around.
I have stoked the fires of this life, sourced with feminine power.
Wine, food, laughter, and tears, as if it were my call.
It was as if God put a heckle in my soul….and then asked me to simply listen.
And it’s been with me ever since.
“ You have walked The Addict Path. You have skill in this transition.”
I bow to this secret knowing…
That maybe, just maybe, this break up doesn’t have to be a breakdown, but maybe somethings breaking in.
Micheal Angelo never “created” the statue of David but rather placed his hands upon the clay and removed what was never supposed to be there.
Like newly formed clay in the creator's hand, I bow to the unshaped form.
I close my eyes and feel it.
This is my “eat, pray, love” moment…
A Vision Quest for my soul.
Here, more things are claimed inside the lost?
What do God's hands want to make?
I feel the handle in my grasp, the love inside this chest, the deepest well that’s dry, the ache that echoes in…
“This is my vein of Gold.” A love that’s sourced within.
“ For I am an Artist,” the voice whispers,
“My canvas is my life…”
