I’m not perfect…

Portrait sketch by Frances Baxter… francesbaxterart on Instagram

Continued… from my day in the big-smoke

My body still in shock.  Exhaustion racks my senses.  My skin’s collapsed, held in place by cartilage and bone.

I’ll never be one of them.  There’s no use trying.  Do I try?  Oh yes.  I have a heart that loves and yearns to respond in kind.  But I need those boundaries firm.  I need to stay firm with my higher guidance.

I can’t afford to get lost.  The journey to myself has been a long one.  And no two are the same.  I can’t look for confirmation… it will never be.  I’ll never see myself reflected in another.

Oh yes ~ the things we share.  But that solitary space can never be divided.  So what does that mean?  How to traverse this wild expanse of living.

It’s easy to get lost… hiding behind those massive pylons; holding up the bridge… to where?  What am I crossing over… what is on the other side?  From where have I come, and where am I going?

The storm was ferocious… not seen such pounding rain for a while.  I had no umbrella and I needed to catch the bus. The bus stop was a few blocks down.

The air had a chill that day… sitting for so long my leg lost its strength.  The cold had put it to sleep… and those bloody runners had little flexibility.  My foot felt like a block of wood.  Clod, clod, clod… they could hear me coming.

Oh god I know that place… I’ve lived and visited over many decades.  It’s not there all the time, depends the shoes, the weather and how tired I am.  But the suffocating angst and tension that spreads across my body.  The tension… oh, I know it well. Trying to walk… for many so easy.

To me each time’s a challenge.

Made it to the bus stop… rain was increasing; began to pour.  The flooding kind… swept through the gutters, collected in puddles all over.

I raced into the shelter… wow, it’s been there for ages.  Remember it from decades ago.  Looking worn and dirty.  Filled with lots of people… from all directions and places.  Alcohol, slight whift of weed (personally I think it’s a better choice ~ weed that is😊).  There was a lot going on in that shelter.

It was the end of the day and it had been an early start.  The early bus to Byron. Two workshops, different groups of people… with only a short break in between.

I really don’t know how I operate.  I usually only feel the impacts.  Why I can’t do what others do?  Well, it’s been an echo in my life.  But man have I fought against it… often to my detriment.

Finding my way… the road gets more and more narrow.  It can feel lonely and isolated… or is that just an echo that’s travelled through the centuries.  My son experiences it too (sometimes).

What is the solution?  To merge fully and completely with my divine inheritance.  To step into the body of me… its shape, its colour, its dimensions.  To dive deeper down, to all the floors… wear my full colours with golden pride.  I can only be myself.

Sounds simple… but from my experience, it’s not at all.

to be continued….

Sending you lotsa LOVE… marilyn 😍🧚‍♂️😍

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I love to write . . . I love to appreciate all the beauty in life. I find comfort and healing in dear Mother Nature's bounty, creative projects fill my home ~ everywhere. I've done many things and more await me ~ life is a journey, a creative adventure. I often say thank you for all that's been given.

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