Date: Sep 5th, 2007 12:08:29 pm - Subscribe
Pain is a color. And I look back at the mural of my life so far and I'm stunned at how much of it is there. It's everywhere, it tints families and friendships and moves and births and deaths and the further back I look I realize there is not a single point in my life where that color is absent. Physical or emotional, sometimes both - it's as though the very canvas itself was washed in the pain and my life was laid over it, sketched in and colored with watercolors that never seem to obscure the basecoat.
It's not a complaint, however it sounds. Just an admission. Humanity is a tapestry, everyone is a thread, and it takes more than just the bright colors to create dimension and depth. My colors are muted, changed by the pain that runs like a vein of salt under the surface and is never truly gone.
I am more than my pain.
It's so easy to believe we can't do a thing simply because it is outside of our 'comfort zone' or beyond the scope of what we can imagine. It's so tempting to think that circumstances are out of our control, so seductive - the idea of just letting go, surrendering and being swept off by the tides of a life we aren't fully present in.
I don't want to be a spectator. I don't. I may not know how to start or what it will take, but I want to be an active participant in my own reality. Even when it is less than perfect, when it cracks and chips and peels, I want to be there.
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