a wild collective blog – originally posted on August 15, 2018
I wrote the title of this blog as a throwaway phrase late last year; tossed into my iPhone note app in the wee hours of the morning. In that space when the moonlight has passed into shadow and the sun hasn’t quite woken up yet.
These words were written in a moment of desperation, a moment where I had sought something, anything, to hold onto. It was in this moment of weakness and ache, a time when I fiercely believed I was nothing more than a plaything, used and discarded when the appeal and shine had worn away. I felt faded and phased out, and surely as the sun eventually did rise in the east that day, the dawn brought with it self-accusations. It *had *to have been my fault. My doing. My words actions wants, hopes and desires that allowed another part of me to fall prey to the broken system that has become my heart.
Because who am I to want anything? Who am I to deserve more than I have (which is a whole whole lot)? Less then during, absolutely nothing now.
After this came a stab that hurt far greater than even I’m tempted to admit here. That was the worst part; you see, it wasn’t bad or painful to long for clarity nor was it hard to try and understand such a clear and obvious break – it was the remembering. Remembering I am resilient and fully capable of continuing on but knowing, simply, that I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to let go of that thing that I believed so fiercely was right and real, something that was brought to me for a reason that was and will always lie beyond my field of vision. I didn’t want to let go of that feeling or the trust and the emotions that were shared. And maybe even to this very day I haven’t. But I knew then, or rather I understood, that the only thing keeping me tethered was that one cosmic-sized word: Resilience.
Because there is a resilience of all things. Not just people or animals but everything around us that is alive with a life, even if that life vastly differs from that of our own. It’s alive because of its desire to be. It’s an innate sense to come back and thrive and move forward again and again and again despite being thrown away or kicked around, let go of or deeply mislead. And it’s in that innate, otherworldly whisper that we find the true stuff we are made of.
Stardust and rust and magic and spells and God and energy and love and light and the soul. Oh God, the soul is that unique speck of Other that is ours and ours alone. And yet.. soul mates *are *real. Because I have one, just like you have one.
And it was that moment, when the pain from knowing that I would come back from this shatter-point truly came home to me. It’s a conundrum, I know. I didn’t want to continue on, didn’t see the point, but my resilience wouldn’t allow me to fall, fade or stray too far from a return to self. Whatever and whoever that may be, now that I live in a time after that hurt.
It was and continues to be hard and yes, I face this alone because I must. And I have friends, best friends, and family, who would be more than willing to sit and listen to my inner dialogue for hours on end, happily. I love them for that.
Yet, this is a story that belongs only for me and the esoteric words I will write every once and again when the pressure gets too hard to tolerate. I am only human after all and I never claimed to not be a dramatic human either. 😉
In the end of all endings, there will always be another word for all of this, for the thrive and the desire and the need to endure. And no, it’s not the one I’ve been writing here all this time. It’s another word, albeit shorter, but one far more powerful.
I don’t have to tell you either.. you already know it.
Also H E L L O! The Wild Collective is BACK!
I promise to be more mindful of this space and write and write and write. And to be truthful in the telling of my heart, the stories that live within and the all other bits and pieces that make it worth your time to read.