A letter to my self:
Yesterday morning a small bird hit the window next to me. This is the first time it has happened here. It isn’t one of those windows birds are always flying into. I looked down and saw it breathing and was relieved, thinking it was just stunned. As I watched its breathing slow, I realized it was dying. I buried it amongst the trees behind my home with red cloth and sage. Such a beautiful bird. So tragic.
Death is the great transition. Physical death takes us to a place that we cannot understand, for a purpose we cannot know. Metaphorical death is just a ball of suck.
I suppose it is what we must do; Keep chipping away at the song of mother culture, break the bonds of expectations, dig deep into ourselves to find out truth. Not an easy journey. I started this path a while back now and have to say that although I love how much more I understand about myself, I fucking hate the journey. Roller coasters are a much better idea than the epic tides of emotions that rape me. I should have just gone to Six Flags and bought some ignorance.
Sweet Medicine tells the story of her childhood relationship with her grandfather. She was always curious about his work, as he practiced the old ways, and he would always chase her off. He would yell at her to get out. He would keep telling her she wanted to be somewhere else. But still she kept coming back to him. He was making sure that she genuinely wanted to be on this path. He knew the reality of what it was and the benefit of ignorance.
Okay, Stone, here is the important thing; If you had that experience with a mentor that you looked up to, you would keep going back. So either way you would end up where you are now. Before, you didn’t understand that you were connected to everything. Now you do. Now you also understand just how alone you really are. This is your path. These are your choices. Free will really is the biggest bitch of them all. So now it is just you, sitting next to your truth and a cup of tea. I’ve heard you say before that truth never was an engaging conversationalist. I guess you’ll find out now.
Break ties that don’t serve you. Break walls blocking you from knowing. Break into your heart space and steal a good long stare at what is there. Break your self. Defiantly take your strength in hand and use it to choose a metaphorical death. Don’t wait for it. I’m not even sure you should rebuild. Your raw truth exposed to the universe is the most connected and perfect you will ever be. Fuck the fear and work through it.
Stone, keep writing. It is the one outlet you have that allows for unfettered expression. It is your deepest connection to your truth.
I wish I could say that I love you.