of faith

have you heard the story of wendy darling and her hidden kiss? the last kiss in the corner of her mouth, the one that her children and her husband all wanted, the one that only peter pan could get?

for me, that hidden kiss has always been faith. and no one could get it. not family nor friends, not even myself. a hundred thousand chances to give it away, but no, i've kept her tucked away-safe from old lovers and new mistakes, so no bitterness bleeds through and the memory of her stays true and dear.

it's ironic, then (or is it fantastic?), that i chose this year to introduce her to the world. this year - the one where i went to war with my heart; this month - with its weeks stained with melodrama and temperance. i have held her up, like an umbrella, protecting me against these extremes of temperature, this folding and pounding; we've stood, hand in hand, as life twisted itself inside-out, and we are laughing loud and long as life is finally displaying the gold hidden within. the excitement, the surprise, the sudden beauty of the everyday has made faith possible.

she is newborn, my faith. fragile and sticky and wet. and yet, in this moment, everything inside me climbs upward. and with her arrival, i find i exist in a perpetual state of hope.

i no longer worry about being broken. a lovely, lovely life is sprouting up from between the cracks and crevices. now, you ask, how does my garden grow? wild and loud and lush.

i no longer wonder how it is i've gone off in eleven different directions from where i began and where i thought i wanted to be. i know, now, that we're not supposed to live with an iron control that excludes those different directions.

i am no longer blind to the series of small miracles that keep me alive. miracles of timing, of impulse, conversations left unsaid, people seen or not seen, opportunities and mistakes lost and grasped. and i've come to not just believe, but to really trust, that sooner or later, good will come to those who do good; joy will be the reward for those who bring humor to others; and opportunity will present itself to those who persist.

in a funny kind of way, the events of the last days are leading me to believe that i can actually will good things to happen. i don't expect immediate results, of course, i just throw my hopes out there into the open air or onto the page and let the universe work its particular brand of evolutionary magic. and in the midst, i find i am calm and comfortable with my settlement. i am happy, high flying, idealistic, looking for beauty and, as always, just a little messy.

and i wouldn't have it any other way.

the ghost of the old eagerness

thomas wolf speaks of 'the ghost of the old eagerness.'

the ghost has awakened in me...in a way that whispers to me in the final moment before sleep comes, when the barriers have fallen. faint, but powerful. i feel something stir inside. something deep and old...making me curious and want to follow its lead.

in those moments, i can feel a tiny wisp of time that hangs in the air, like lightning in a summer sky. and i know something is coming. only, i can't see what it is because it's as if my eyes are adjusting to the sunlight outside.

maybe it's something i want. or something i thought i'd never want, but suddenly find i need. a feeling...not yet fully formed. a part of myself i have never seen. it is not, i am certain, a question of possibility, or of opportunity, or of luck. it just is, in a way i quite like.

i have no expectations, save for the fact that i expect it will arrive - and not according to my whim or wish or timetable. and that one day, i will look back and say, 'there began the thing that would change me forever.'

returning

there is a spot off the beach at doheny where the waves break big and early and often and where, at the end of the day, the sun sits a little longer in the sky, turning the water, the waves and its audience the most brilliant, glittery shade of gold. i like to stop there on my way home from work sometimes, watching the surfers who dare paddle long and hard and deep to reach the swells, watching them race both the current and the sun and listening to their whoops of joy above the crash of the waves and the crush of the wind.

i must look so odd sitting there, in the sand, in my fancy work clothes and my perfect hair. but i don't feel 'odd.' i feel calm and comfortable (though sometimes slightly chilled) and i find the idea of following someone else's joy can almost always lead me to my own.

i haven't stopped there in awhile; everything's been such a whirl. so this evening, if i had my way, i'd steal away to watch the night come down and to give the voices in my head free reign. it's nice having a safe, soft place to land, a place where i don't have to be strong or able or nice, where i don't have to be a good daughter or sister or citizen ... a place where i can just be.

nice. strong. good. of course these are labels i've chosen to wear. i know that. but it's nice to stand naked sometimes. even if someone is looking. especially when someone is looking. thank you for looking.

in my friends, some old and many, oh.so.new, i have found comfort and warmth and genuine affection. and as a result, i find a certain light and lightness turning and returning and so i will heed their gentle reminder that it is not only good, but right, to be someone's first thought.

even my own.