Dear God, Are You There? It's Me...

 

 

Writing prompt: 

“And so, onwards…along a path of wisdom, with a hearty tread, a hearty confidence…however you may be, be your own source of experience. Throw off your discontent about your nature.  Forgive yourself your own self.  You have it in your power to merge everything you have loved through – false starts, errors, delusions, passions, your loves and your hopes – into your goal, with nothing left over.” F. Nietzsche

Writing prompted by:

My aching hands, keeping me up at night, waking me up early in the morning.  I 'ask the cards', "What should I do about my aching hands?"

 "WRITE," they say. Oddly enough, they are beginning to feel better, my hands.

Writer's block:

That thing you get when you sit down and stare at a blank page and wonder what you are supposed to say...when all you really want to do is get every last bit of the energy, the blocked words that are in your throat, your mind, your heart, to come spewing out, releasing built up, pent up, feelings and ideas that are stuck in the vortex of time and space.  The energy that has been there for lifetimes. The true to your own self thoughts that you never have the courage to say, to yourself, let alone the world, let alone the world around you, let alone the world that you think you desire to inhabit, who inhabits you, in your deepest soul...the world you long for, the world you cannot find. Dear God.

Forgive yourself. Start there. For the illusions, the delusions...the false starts and errors.  Forgive them all, for the lifetimes, for this very moment.  Start there.  Start now.  And then, "Onwards!"

"Where are we going?" the inner child, the scared Self cries. God only knows, so just effing Go!  Stop trying to have it all figured out first. Say what you need to say. Be brave.

Pfizzzzz...there it goes. All the shit, all the glory that is within me fizzles into a little blurb of aphorisms and nonsense.  Well, it's a start, I guess.  A very little, very seemingly insignificant, probably highly significant start. But now my hands are burning again, and the words are not flowing, and the ideas are clogged up because I continue to keep talking around all of the things that I want to say instead of just saying ANY of them. I can't say ANY of them. I refuse to say ANY of them, so help me God. Please.