BLOWING THE SHIT OUTTA WHALES

(*Obscenities will ensue!)

Someone asked me, A year ago did you cry this often? Startling. This was startling. Did I? I don't know the honest answer. I do know a year ago I carried more anger. I know that a year ago I carried less awareness of myself and of the world around me. I know a year ago I worried myself sick about EVERYTHING. I know that a year ago, for me, is so much further away than 365 days.

And so I cry. I cry in the belly of a whale. Or at least I did. It was dark in there. And inside that belly I had a candle, one of those shitty, doesn't burn long and if it gets damp you're fucked, dollar store candles. I had one match and the bottom of my shoe with which to strike it. I had more in there with me, too. I had my work, laundry, the kid's school and homework to organize, doctor's appointments, fires to start, hair to brush, medicine to administer, dust bunnies to chase, bills to pay and all the other shit that dirties up our days. It was all there in the belly of the whale with me. And hey, I'm claustrophobic and wasn't doing too well with all that crap around me. Two days - only two days, for two days I stood knee deep in the wet gunk of the whale's belly, eyes blinking, knowing my shoes were too damn wet to strike that match. Standing still like that in the warmth of a stomach, things begin to swell. What to do?

I woke up on the third. I woke up on the third day and had a thought. Remembered something from my new self. I woke up on the third day and I said to myself, Fuck this whale. Fuck this whale and the work and the laundry and the medicine and the dust bunnies. Fuck it all. Even the kid's schoolwork, if truth be told. I made a big ole pile in the middle of the belly and I climbed it to the top and as I climbed I said my thought out loud. I said, I will live beauty. I will. I will live beauty in spite of this whale. Fuck this whale. No one invited this whale to the party anyway. And I held up that match. Gunk drained down my legs and my shoe wasn't going to ignite anything but I held up that match anyway. I held it up high. I will live beauty.

And do you know what happened? That whole whale let go. That bastard ruptured uglier than Aunt Louise's arse after delivering cousin Fred at 13lbs. That whale let go and instead of dust bunnies on my kitchen floor there is blubber but I don't give a rat's ass about blubber. Let it float! My kids and I will jar it and we'll have candles through the winter, drive the dollar store candle sales down, and fold the whole of China!

So here it is. I will live beauty. What does that mean? It means something different to every one of us. To me it means this. I will not succumb. I will instead wake up on top of the pile instead of in the gunk of the belly. I will wake up and gather leaves as they fall, watch snow as it gentles, do a Little Rascal's Alfalfa double-take when blooms press open, and I will lazy myself in the sand when the time is right. I will dance with my kids and eat cookies for breakfast. I will get lost and not worry about being found. I will look into strangers and try to recognize them as not so strange after all. I will make time for movies and books and reading. I will eat chips when I want to and licorice by the fistful. I will sing as I walk. I will walk. And sometimes I will run. I will live beauty.

And you should, too.

As a consequence of this reorganizing of my whale I am going to pull myself back from blogging. The selfish truth of it is that I could write every day but I can not find the time to make it to your places. So I might write. I might read. I might walk. I might collect leaves. And if I post here, you are welcome to ignore me. I can't keep up my end of the bargain. I just can't. Maybe some day I will be able to. But this new life that I'm growing into, it has to be one freedom. You never know when my walk might turn into a run.

Much love and appreciation for all you've given me.
xo
erin