The dawn is still and chill. The freezing morning wind slapping at my stiffening face says I should get back in the house but I fight to stay on a minute or two. I inhale the new day with my feet planted on my rooftop and my arms tightly hugging my frame. My closed eyes choose to blindly surf the dull sky above and for a minute, I get lost.
The echoes in the haunted corridors of my headspace come alive. They are quick to litter unsolicited reminders and endless what ifs like baits for my overthinking mind. Life cannot be lived this way but seasonal depression has seen me walking myself to a sacrifical altar whenever and wherever then tasking my bleeding self to scuffle for a way off the rostrum.
I reflect on the how I have trekked the unmapped territories of manning my brood solo. How that part of my overall journey has taught me patience and selflessness. On the many times I have requested audience with my inner man to see if there is a way to forge transcendental dialogues without my necessarily numbing myself first. On the way I have prayed for control over my multitudinous being while preying on my weakest attributes with unintentional ill intentions. I obsess over how I tend to circle around some issues over and over again, each time on a different level and pace.
Can such practicalities of life force a creative to drift in and out of the creative space? I wonder.
For it feels like I must undertake some kind of spiritual ritual to reachieve the peak of my creative flow. For this to happen, I need to surrender myself to the scribing worship and let the words embroidered on my soul get a glimpse of the light.
Pens and papers have always been waiting at the other side of the fence for me to rearrange my house and align my demons with the red moon and ink. For me to finally conquer smooth transition in-between the emotions that brew deep down and the seasons I find myself in especially those that welcome change.
And change is big for any perfectionist out here I hear.
It requires continuous willingness to be fluid and trusting the many processes of my rebirths. It demands that I let the universe take charge in dismantling my blinded perspective. To unlearn while learning and relearning. It accords those who are patient enough fluency in healing and crucial shadow work conversations. And I am working my way to such liberties. Dreaming of the day that I can channel inner freedom while keeping in mind that the aim is to stay in the trail of light that leads back to my authentic self and steadily climb.
The sun is here and with it, the birth of these words.
wambuku w.
