Words.

My intention when I began this blog was to write something once a week. Maybe even more than that. I enjoy writing, and the idea of sitting down early in the morning with laptop in hand filling this space with words, is soothing to me. With so many different topics to explore, this seemed such an easy thing to commit to.

I understand the power of words. A single word can make you fall in love or tear your world apart. At least that's the way it is in my universe. I believe that words should be used wisely and that those who carelessly toss them around in a destructive manner probably aren't aware of the damage that they do. Or if they are aware they do so as a form of control. Behind every word is an intention, and maybe that's where all the power comes from. Though at times the intention and words do not match.

That's why you haven't seen (or should I say heard?) much from me here lately. I have sat down several times to write and share my feelings and experiences regarding the illness and death of my father. My last blog on "the dramas of life" was healing for me and was a beautiful way for me to open up and share the intimacies of my mind around what I was experiencing. Several times since then I have had running commentary in my mind for a blog or have even sat down to write and fortunately saved the words as a draft before posting. Somehow I recognized, even in my twisted state of despair, that what I had to say was just too negative and depressing to go sharing with others.

I truly visited the depths of hell. There was no satan or fire, no whips or chains. Just the contents of my mind, my nature, the natures of others, and the rawness of all human emotion being expressed through the senses, and the rawness of a body being eaten away and decaying from disease and pain. Daily experiences became so overwhelming that I recognized a touch of insanity within myself. Due to my ability to become present with my feelings and emotions, my ability to become present with my father; I lost some ability to be present in many other aspects, moving through situations and days at times unaware of what I was doing or had done. I could no longer trust my mind. But I could certainly feel. Pain, pain, pain.

How can you recognize heaven if you've never been to hell?

I felt a need to get something out, to get ALOT out. On many levels... like a had a vile poison within me that I needed to spew. Maybe through words, maybe through cutting myself open and bleeding it out, maybe through vomitting, turning myself inside out... and as I sat to write, poisonous words came out. Truly validated words that correctly described my feelings, yet poisonous none the less. I chose not to share my poison.

And as I sit here now, writing, reflecting; I recognize that there is beauty and purpose in feeling the angst that can come through in words. To be moved to tears as you feel the pain expressed through a simple sentence, or the insanity, or the hate, and to reconize that you are not alone in having such feelings.

Reality. Reality is that there is pain and suffering. And pleasure and beauty. Even pain, especially pain; can be excruciatingly beautiful. So as I have exerienced pain I have also experienced the beauty of death, of forgiveness, of acceptance. Of suffering.

As I deleted or ignored those posts I told myself I had better wait until I had something more positive, more uplifting to say. As I am glad that I did not share them, it's not for the same reason that I deleted them. I have never been one to pretend that life is all blue skies, and that everything is good all the time. I will share with you the truth of my exeriences. The highs and the lows. The pleasure and the pain.

I am glad that I deleted those blogs because they were just too personal. I wrote them from a place of being completely withdrawn from others. My intention was to reach out. To find a way to connect and to share, to feel less alone. As I re-read the words I saw the loneliness, and I saw words that I did not feel others would understand. I felt that those words may even further isolate me.

The truth is that I needed to be isolated. I needed to be withdrawn. All that I went through, experienced, discovered, learned, etc. was a special gift just for me. I am smiling right now at the thought of this.

The journey into your soul, into your truth, cannot be experienced by anyone else. It takes strength to look within and is so much easier to look to others as a distraction or to validate your experience. When you are able to keep your focus inward and to face the work that must be done alone it is the most rewarding thing you can experience. Just think of the pleasure you experience from any little luxury that you keep for yourself... for instance eating an entire chocolate bar without anyone else knowing about it.

How did I get here? This blog has taken on a personality of it's own. My intention was to begin to get back into the groove of writing here. To let you know that I am well, and have made it through the experience of my father's death and am back in the game of life. I am stronger, wiser, and grateful.

See you next week.