2012 day 4 of 4 but now 5 | I fling

driving, for me, is like that really long hot shower. I am just basking mindlessly in the flow. suddenly without warning or provocation, shazam! an idea, solution, a decision crystallizes and speaks directly into my mindlessness. instantly I become quite present, attentive, as I maul over this thing that has surfaced from the mist.

and so it is with this long solo drive. the decisions have come. they require change. will I go kicking and screaming, dragging my heals, or will I walk to the edge this time and just fling myself over? kicking, dragging, screaming almost always leads me in to a really dark space, depression, and the change comes anyway. I would like to do it differently this time. no, I don’t know where I will land or what it will look like, but I am seriously up to the fling. I am up to hear the roar of wind in my ears, I am ready for the heart pounding unknown. I am willing to risk the fiscally responsible.

I suppose I am stronger now. i certainly don’t try any longer to rationalize and vulcanize how this fulfills some kind of “ministry,” i simply trust my maker. and that I still am who I am. perhaps just a little more naked in the flow.

I am ready to fling myself over this new edge.

2001 9/11
flying my hertz rent a car from Tampa to Texas. radio. people where jumping. it was horror. it was real. but in my mind, in my body, in my soul the decision came, a different kind of edge, a different kind of leap. it did alter me. it did not bring death but life. i would not have leapt without them. And so i drafted my resignation letter in my head. over course of next three months I applied to graduate school for an mfa. I didn’t know I might not get in, i didnt know to be afraid. I just jumped.

I have reached that space in life where my strength of ego and self-will allow me, draw me, to take the risk of “becoming.” Becoming who I am, not that self defined by “shoulds.” Change is difficult. Self sabotage common. Yet, I am moving into that self that has been simmering below my surface for a very long time.
I am consumer, lover of stuff.
I am female, pink appeals.
I am forty-four, decay has begun.
I am visual, language challenged.
I am seeker, life teaches.
I am designer, anally fixated.
I am watcher, society astounds.
I am pattern seer, micro macro, macro micro.
I am dysfunction, I function.
I am spiritual, Christ calls.
I am tactile, let me touch it.
I am American, arrogance assumed.
This surfaced self binds together the fragments of my many selves into a unit, into a whole. And as I step into this whole/fragmented self…I find myself. Deep satisfaction. Maturation.

My should self has never known passion. My … self has been safe. An electric current of fear courses through me as passion moves to the forefront. Art informs my design. Design informs my art. AND ALL THESE GOD USES TO INFORM AND TRANSFORM MY LIFE. I step to the edge of change and waiver there. The safe and unsafe are merging and I am becoming.

I step to the edge of change and wavier there until my own demons pull me back. No. I choose to follow them back. I give myself over. Change is screaming to me and I know it is what I need, what I want. What I CRAVE!

Simultaneously, the lure of safe sameness calls to me, beckoning me back from the edge, yet I find that my toes curl tightly to this edge. I am stretched, torn, yet, I am not returning to the safe sameness! I will process the fear, redirect it. I am not beating my head on the same wall, or at least it looks different, feels different…is different?

What is not different are the demons. They are not new. Every time I step into/toward change, they approach me—steal my thoughts, riveting them on old fears. I require, demand, to push through, not to give in, NOT TO BE SAFE.

I have chosen not to dream, but now they break over me in a rushing onslaught. Not the dream of sleep have I fled, but the dream of future-casting. And now I taste the dream rolling across the back of my tongue and it scares the hell out of me!