Hmm, nihilistic stream-of-consciousness?
I'm reminded of those exercises from grade school: pretend you are a tree growing up and spreading your leaves. It seems so far from where I am now. I guess I identify more with the earth mother, who invented birth, who supported herself, who took care of it all, alone.
I can feel the power growing, but the greater my belly, the lonelier I am. I miss the things I've never had: communal living, the close extended family. Not that I would ever tolerate that. My preparations are abreviated by circumstance and I realize how transient life is. I have nothing, nothing to offer, nothing to take, nothing to give. Except for me.
But how do you give of yourself when you don't believe in yourself? How do you teach self worth when your own is a mask of social propriety? How do you create a worthy human being when you don't believe in the worthiness of others to you, or of you to others? How do you share the joys when you so often hide them from yourself?
Apples and oranges, but there's only one orange and soon there will be another (but is it an apple or an orange). Why does the orange care about how the apples see it? Why is worth measured by what others take away?
Survival is not about living, it is about crawling forward, inch by inch. The world has too many souls to give you another inch.
I hug myself, my belly, my boy. Sing the songs of survival, but don't mean them. I'm not a survivor. Despite all, I choose to live; despite all, I will give you life and all the joys of my soul.
This is the nectar I offer.
Check out my radio blog, Pagan Musings, and my writing (as Selina Wolfcat & Sarah Buhrman).
I'm a head-covering witchy mama to DS ('06) and DD ('10) with DH, Stormie, a Heathen breadwinning daddy.