Letting Go of the Unchosen One.
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Sitting, breathing, sinking deeper — there it is: my cold, dark, silent escape. I see a room in the distance, its shimmering, deep, violet light shining past the window pane.
I feel the lure of invitation. I am seduced by curiosity, suppressed by fear. The core of my body churns with that floorless feeling of homesickness, so I inch closer.
I want to go home. I am so hollow and weary.
From the room I hear my true voice call my name. God, I haven’t heard her voice in lifetimes. I open my mouth to answer, and I am reminded that I am voiceless out here. My penance for their sin.
Stepping closer, closer — close enough to feel the warmth of the light. It soothes the ache inside. I remember feeling this warm comfort as a child in the arms of my grandmother. My nostalgia slowly disappears like a photograph being burned. I feel the fire. How cruel! To find my soul’s solace, then to have it burn in front of me. Is this a joke? Life is fucking hilarious.
I turn back. Fuck this room, fuck my voice, fuck this. But as I walk away, I look up to see who I am walking towards. I see myself, sitting there in meditation, trying to survive. Familiar tears streaming down her face as she breathes deeply. It is her self-destructing thought that sent me here.
I had to try again, so I return and step closer this time, close enough to understand. The fire was consuming everything that was not me. It’s the only condition of entrance.
I thought I understood what had to go, so I gave myself to the fire.
Wait! No! I jumped back. Not this, this is me! Look! Here, at all of these unacceptable words left unspoken. Look at these unfulfilled desires and repressed feelings that kept my relationships intact. And these beliefs about the world that kept me separated. Look at my humor, my beauty, how will I be loved without them? My memories, my pain, my stories. This is too much to ask!
But I know I must, so I loosen my white-knuckled grip on those things and step forward once again. Searing pain. Deeper than I had ever imagined. No! You cannot have that, there will be nothing left! The fire plunged deep below all I thought, all I felt, and to the center of who I believe I am: unchosen.
But, this is me!
I hear my voice answer from inside the room, “I am.”
In an act of desperation or insanity or rage or all of the above, I let it all go. I let go of you and you and that and this and me and me and me and me… until I reached the center of being — the unchosen one — and I let her go too.
I fell into the room with nothing left, and stood up as I am. No abusive voice in my head, no debilitating fear in my heart, no chains on my soul.
I opened my eyes, heavy from meditation, and looked around. There was only this: the song of a bird in a nearby magnolia tree. The shadows on the ground cast by the afternoon sun. A warm breeze. My heartbeat. My breath. And nothing else was needed. There was nothing to do. There was no one to be. I inhaled my own fragrance deeply and was captivated by love.
There is only this.
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Misty Blue is finding her way home and sharing her journey along the way. She loves her wife and four-legged kids. She loves music, writing, dancing, or any form of self-expression. She feels the most peace in nature among old friends. She may be contacted via email.
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