All too often the unknown is scary. Well, to us grown-ups anyway.
My version of adulterated is, “Adult-R-Rated”. We hit a certain age where we stamp life with a big fat “R” for RESTRICTION, Responsibility, Restraint.
It’s so ironic.
As little children my brothers, sister and I would swing some seventy five feet out, on a massive vine sprouting off a majestic giant Redwood, off a cliff over a ravine, the bottom probably a thousand foot fall. My six foot two father appeared as an ant on the path far below. Yet, laughing, reeling, squealing with adventurous joy, we never saw any danger.
Or we would sit up in an ancient oak reaching its limbs out across an endless lake, watching tornadoes coming right at us, holding onto tree limbs, like baby orangutans–arms and legs lock-wrapped around mama’s neck–as the giant water spout wailed passed us to wreak havoc on the tiny town it sucked up and spat out.
Another moment I’d be jumping off a ten foot roof, or picking up some unidentified snake by it’s tail. Never a question, nor any hesitation.
All the nights I’d walk by myself in the wilderness in the dark, never fearing all there was in a vast forest to fear. Ahh… Such sweet UN-adulterated days.
That was then. This is now. And right now I’m actually scared to publish this. Scared to commit to expressing my truth, thoughts, and experiences to others. To all of you. Because I don’t know what it may bring, or not bring, to my proverbial door.
Hmmm… Good God. Literally. Literary-ally. To “Be ye a little child” and “enter into the kingdom of heaven”, once again. To not doubt one’s ability to swing out over gaping jaws of judgement; the type that may come from other adults reading my words. To stand naked amidst a storm of criticism because I stand alone in my experiences and personally-earned truth. To take a leap off my tower of contentment and not break a sweat, let alone a limb. To walk peacefully in the darkness of despair, without feeling abandoned or bitter or regretful, when it was I who failed to shine a light of hope and forgiveness upon myself after my nineteen year old son’s horrible death.
That was then. This is now.
And here I am. Embracing the light. Again. (I have died twice. Honestly. Doctor’s dead. But that ‘light-embrace’ is another story.) Engaging life. Again. This time I’m embracing that God-touched-glimmer of curiosity, whimsy, and heart a child follows without care. I’m calling myself out to play. To come out of the dark, dark tainted space of self-judgement and self-inflicted separation we tend to use as adults to hide within our dread-filled lives of boredom or past failures.
So to all who have known me… To all who may want to know me… And especially to myself. Thank God we’re all here. Let’s play. Outrageously!