A Few Words On Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a heavy load.  Let's be honest.  Long before forgiveness occurs the burden has been hauled around for months, if not years, probably decades. It piles up like mold under walls, lingers like smoke accumulating in a small town bar.  It can't be washed out in just one super soak.  The stench roots in the fibers, deep with the fabric's weave where it sits closest to the skin.  Even if forgiveness is the next necessary step, pulling the proverbial trigger is not a simple act. It leads to a devilish debate of who is worthy, who has weathered the fight, who is willing to let go of pride.

 

I've had to do a lot soul searching this year.  Do I forgive the hit and run driver who nearly killed my husband?  What if the aortic aneurism had taken my Dad's life when so much had been left unsaid?  And reconciling with God over the loss of a grandchild while watching my daughter suffer through yet another tragic event in a year full of insanity.  Some would say this past year was horrible for my family, but I would say it has been full of blessings.  Three amazing people are doing well today and I can tell them every day how much I appreciate having them in my life; a feeling so amazing that granting forgiveness was an easy decision to reach in the preceding cases.  But when forgiveness reaches deep into past transgressions, the ones so vile they've taken on a life of their own, well those are a bit more tricky.

 

With so many life and death struggles taking center stage in my year I was struck with a sudden fearful realization: What if the people I need to forgive die before I can release them?  Seems rather ego-centric, I suppose, but the reality of forgiving is that it is a gift one gives to oneself. Holding back forgiveness is like holding your breath in a childish contest of endurance. You are the one who cannot breathe.  You are the one turning purple. You are the one putting yourself on hold while others breathe easy. To forgive is to live without anything to prove to someone who's not watching anyway. It's that first big rush of air taken in once you realize the contest is a ridiculous waste of time and decide to breathe again.  I know this because today I forgave someone whose acts have held me captive in my own soul.                                                            

 

Today, I released this person from the hold I gave him on my life, and in doing so found a peace unlike anything I've ever known. My greatest fear in forgiving was the possibility this person would minimize my battle.  After all, I had emotionally granted this person unlimited power over my emotions, decisions, and my opinions.  If he were to say that all I feared was unreal, or to deny his part in my hurt, I would be left with a bag full of ghosts. Moving forward without closure is the risk in forgiving.  But the reward outweighs this risk.  And sometimes the unthinkable happens: the other person needs this resolution as well.

 

With great anxiety, I sent my forgiveness and proudly accepted my bag of ghosts, never expecting a reply.  Surprisingly, I received an immediate response. This person accepted responsibility and wanted my forgiveness.  In that moment, I felt my soul break free of its cage.  I felt a rush of air in my lungs that knocked me off my chair. I cried as if making up for years of stuffed tears.  And, as my life pattern has been throughout this year,  I found peace in the most unlikely of places. So if you're holding on to pain, try forgiveness. It's not easy.  It doesn't mean you've given up.  It means, finally, you are willing to set yourself free.

Inner Moonlight

 August 2013- August 2014, has been a grand slam of life altering events. But, and I say this in a hushed breath so the fates don't overhear: life is back on track. I find my studio work is on course for Halloween and I am free to return to earlier projects halted.  For one particular creation, I am not so much "going back to" as I am bringing that work into the present and reassessing with a fresh perspective.  That is, of course, the elusive Secret Project. 

The Secret Project is the fuel in my creative tank.  It's the idea, the flame, that has burned longest and brightest among all my musings. Often, it burned so brightly I was often blinded by it, scorched even, and forced to put it away.  For many years I tried to wrangle this project the way animal control attempts to cage a roaming fox.  One way or  another things are going to get ugly and little will be accomplished. Inspiration ebbs and flows, flooding sketchbooks that span decades.  It is my inner moonlight that often feels like madness. A delicious flirt with the looney side.

 

Sitting with the Secret Project now feels like an amicable truce. After all, the last twelve months have been a surreal parade.  Frequent pleading with God and Death over the past year has mellowed my harsh self-imposed requirements that held me back from real progress on the project.  As humans we foolishly believe every day is a guarantee. We leave unsaid what we truly want to say. We leave unfinished what needs completion. We believe perfection is the triumph when it's the journey that reveals how triumphant we are. The Secret Project has been a work in progress since my late teens.  The roaming fox, once suspected to be rabid, has calmed with age, experience, and softened by fear of loss.  Finally I understand that inner moonlight is not madness; it is just truth waiting to be told.

 

LOVE  &  INNER MOONLIGHT

 

 

 

 

A Karma Kinda Girl

I am a karma centered kinda girl.  I believe every action has an equal reaction and ripple effect in the world.  I have come to a place in my life where I can see where I have been, where I am going, and how karma has influenced every step of my journey.  I am a pacifist at heart. I believe in the greater good inside people, and I have honed the skills to reject negativity in my life. But it wasn't an easy road to get here.  And lately I am bothered by what karma road The Secret Project will forge.

This past week was a creative hiatus.  A self-meditating week when no Hand of Bela Peck studio work was done and all means of writing were suspended.  Just fun, low thought projects and mind cleansing thrifting.  This is how I seek clarity when questions of karma arise, waiting patiently for the universe to respond.  The Secret Project often calls karma onto the wrestling mat and I have to get tangled up in the sticky questions.  How does one create a true depiction of events that will hurt others while simultaneously trying to remain objective? What if the greater good demands the condemnation of the action of others?  And how does one tell a story and not be called a liar by the opposing side?  Is the result worth the risk?

Speaking with my project advisor yesterday, we discussed the karma question in terms of what I fear I could lose in completing the work.  There were only two things on the loss list and they turned out to be things I lost years ago.  The gain list was significant and went on through laughter, light bulb moments, and a higher hope for the greater good.  I know the potential benefits far outweigh the risk. Bravely, I will push on.

 

Creative hiatus is over.  Time to get back to work :)

 

LOVE  &  THE SECRET PROJECT

The Secret Project: Choosing The Right Guide

Once a secret project matures from an idea in infancy, nestled and coddled, into an adventurous toddler in need of supervision while experiencing new grounds, the need for a project guide emerges.  Someone to shape the project in terms of manners, obedience, and love.  For without guidance, the project is at risk of turning feral and doomed to roam a dark forest forever. Because this project has been a goal twenty years in the striving for, because I've been explicitly asked to NOT do this, and because I will have to spend an inordinate amount of time visiting my dark side, I needed to seek out a therapist.

I will admit I was ready to run at first.  Filling out paperwork in a sterile small room I had 15 minutes to myself.  Time to bail.  The moments ticking away like hammer slams, my shoulder blades burned with anxiety.  I need to do this..... I need to do this.  I've got this...... Ok I'm outta here! It would be so much easier to deny this project!  No nooooo.... just NO.  The door opens and I am trapped.  But I can still keep everything to myself, my locked box. I don't have to say a word.  But then nothing moves forward.  Everything remains the same and what needs to be spoken is denied a voice for another decade.

 

There is magic medicine in therapy. It is pure mental massage. I say, proudly, I have sought the help of a therapist at many key points in my life.  I can bear my soul without judgment, without prejudice and under strict confidentiality.  Therapists are like shoes- some look great but feel awful, others have a pillowy cushion that provides support in all the right places. I've tried on some fabulous heels that rubbed me the wrong way but the therapist I met today was pure Dr. Scholls! We chatted fluidly and had an instant connection. She has agreed to be my guide and I feel in my heart she is the perfect fit for my secret project.

A key ingredient for therapy days is a sweet reward; something I can look forward to after the hard working out of mental clogs. A gentle reminder to not take myself so seriously and that life is a journey where I can choose the course.  And let's face it, sugary prettiness appeals to the toddler in all of us!

LOVE  &  TOP SECRETS