I have written an awful lot over the past couple of weeks. It has been impossible to keep up with me! I understand. I don’t apologise, for there is no need; I simply acknowledge that the frequency of posts has made the reading of each and every one a quest not worth pursuing! I have been facing up to, and battling, the illusions and delusions which have kept me in a state of stuckness for so long.
This morning, after a lovely meal last night with friends, I wake to blessed rain and, as I look in the mind’s mirror, become aware that this deluge of physical water has wiped clean its surface and allowed precious clarity.
What I see before me is a lovely, fierce, flawed woman: Someone who is kind, generous, giving, sensitive, thoughtful and warm; someone who nurtures others and has a vast capacity for love; someone who is intensely creative, in several fields, and talented too; someone who has infinite ability to make, and keep, close friendships.
I see also a woman who is, at times, too forgiving; someone whose boundaries have allowed the thieves of the soul to steal in under cover of darkness and take what they wanted; someone slow to stand up for herself and, as a consequence, often trodden into the carpet by the shoes of contempt.
I see a woman who has tried too hard – for admirable, but misguided reasons! – to keep False Grails all buffed up and shiny and given pride of place upon her mantelpiece; someone who has been so crunched up with fear of BEING rejected that she has forgotten her own power, her choice to walk away, to leave others behind, to reject.
I see a woman who has given others the benefit of the doubt far too often – and has, thus, created a cycle of unpleasant, near-the-knuckle comments and overtly neglectful acts by certain others; someone who, in her terror at recognising the truth, has often covered up for, made excuses for, another, blaming herself for the cruelty of other people.
I see a woman who has found happiness and sanctuary, new friends and lovely activities in this phase of her life; someone, parched for connection, who drinks deeply at the waters of friendship and shared joy; someone who understands that the barren of heart and soul create limits for those they envy and cannot be and feed upon the insecurity of need as if it were nectar!
Above all, I see a woman of Light in that mirror: Not a perfect woman; not a faultless alabaster statue; not a saint or a goddess, but a woman fired by life, passionate about so much; someone scarred and hurt; someone who can be wilfully blind and stubborn – but a woman who is coming to an accord with all that she is and is not, and wants to make a difference in the lives of others.
And this woman, looking back from the rain-cleansed mirror, understands completely that clinging on to the thoughtless, the malign, the envious, those who feast upon the essence of the vulnerable was always a choice and never an obligation; that hoping to turn beasts into beauties is unrealistic; that those who have chuntered and snarled and threatened to leave – or left an ambivalent gap as a means of control – are no longer within physical range and that it is up to this woman whether such individuals remain within emotional range: That SHE has the power, and always did, to say, ‘You do not belong in my life anymore and that is your loss…’
I see a woman who has spent much of her life hoping passively for signs instead of taking matters into her own hands and creating the signposts she needs in life! A woman who has clung on for dear life to emotional asbestos because, in her mind, it was better than having nothing to hold; who has shrunk herself to fit into the vast egos of others!
I look in this mirror and I love what I see, this gnarled old survivor; this person of compassion and quick wit; this woman who tries to see the best in people. I love the fact that she is cracked and, at times, clumsy, stupid and wrong-headed; that she does not always act in her own best interests! Goddess, how tedious it would be if we all got it right every single time! Where would be the learning, the potential for growth, in that?
In the end, the opinion of others does not matter. It does not change the person she is if other people choose to sneer at, disrespect or be unkind to her. If names are called, she does not have to own them! If insults are thrown, she can ignore them or return the arrows to sender! The blueprint of this woman was not drawn up using other people’s negative opinions!
Going fully into the first person, I am proud of the funny, at times infuriating, resilient and ribald old bag I am turning into! I am delighted that I have finally realised that my worth is completely separate from any other human being and does not depend upon being liked, admired, loathed or looked down upon!
I know me! Taking as an analogy my battered and much-loved Tigger (the felt tiger I received on my first birthday!), I can see the floppy areas, the places where my stuffing is seeping out, the kinked tail, misshapen ear, felt-pen marks all over; I can see that my colour has faded and my whiskers are now sparse; I can see the marks, all over my body, where heedless children have experimented upon me. But, fifty-nine years on, I am still recognisable as a tiger!
People are, of course, perfectly entitled to disagree with the view I have of myself – but it doesn’t dent the reality! As I say, I am well aware of my flaws – but I am the best at being Alienora Browning there is!
Arrogant? No. Overdue? By some decades!