That everything I thought I knew
Twas a lie twined and twisted true
So many lives are lived in quiet desperation, right?
Until such time, until such time that the silenced voice can be quiet no longer. Then what?
It is a long way from the world we entered as light and sound and vibration and touch and coo. Heavy now, heavy with experience we are now called to let grief be a falling leaf. How can this be? How can this be? Where has the time gone?
Things take the time they take, ease up on yourself. You are still and always have been new to the world. New to light. New to sound. The stories that guided you, that formed you at the start are, without hesitation, lies twined and twisted. That is true. But only because they were handed to you and not experienced in your bones. They sought to save you the difficulty of finding out on your own, but that would rob you, did rob you of the life you are to live. And here you are with your heels blistered from running in the dark. Now what?
Well, now that you're here in this place of uncertainty, of the impulse to regret and recrimination, of abandonment and teetering fear this you must do: use your voice. Test it out. See what it sounds like now that you're on your own. Listen to it. Keep at it. A new story will emerge. It will use bits and pieces of other stories. Like a magpie you'll steal from experience and you'll cobble together a story that is familiar in parts, thoroughly inscrutable in others. This is your story. It has never been told before. If you remain silent, it never will be told, or it will be told by others who couldn't possibly know what you know.
* * *
Things take the time they take. You learn what you have to learn in the time it takes you to learn it. There's no hurrying, there's no shortcut. Don't indulge the bitter fantasy that you could have done it sooner. If it was possible, it would have happened. Re-litigating the past only corrodes the time you have to get all your living done.
We arrive here with the plates in our skull unsutured, a pulsing, soft hole covered by downy hair and skin yet to be closed. We are born incomplete. Into that hole is poured all light and sound. The knot of our unknowing unspools in lies twined and twisted that we took for truth. Experience scars us all. And if you can bear it, if you can keep your feet moving, there comes another unspooling, the one where the lies are forgiven and your story ready, twined and twisted from the roads you've traveled, emerges from your throat: ripe with life, filled with light, sound, vibration, touch and the cooing of one filled with joy and sorrow for what the rest are yet to go through.
Things take the time they take.
* * *
May your well run deep.