Spinning Toward the Stars
Fumble for the light, and you’ll be stark awake, but the vision will be fading, slipping out of reach. Denise Levertov Writing in the Dark
How many years did I spend fumbling for the light? And which light? I think I mostly fumbled because it wasn’t my light for which I searched. It was someone else’s idea of what my life light should be. As I look back, I think I fumbled or pretended I couldn’t find the switch because I didn’t want to bathe in a light that wasn’t mine.
There were times when I blindly walked into the not me light, blinking at its harshness and wondering how I got drawn into its chilly circle. It was magnetically uncomfortable, hard to pull away. But I kept pulling away and fumbling until I was exhausted. Family and friends looked at me suspiciously as I twisted and turned. What is she doing? Why is she changing? They whispered fearfully to each other. She’s not cooperating like she always has. This can’t be good, they hissed.
But it was good. What appeared as uncontrolled spinning to them was life saving for me. Spinning toward my own light. No fumbling for the switch, no more faux light. It had always been within reach.
My light was creamy, warm, embracing and allowed me to shine, a star in a universe of my own design. Brilliant.
Rebekah for the Poplar Grove Muse