And Here I Dance

February 22, 2014 by Aspergers Girls 4 Comments

There is a sweet surrendering in my heart, in which I am in the presence of my higher power, under a command so nurturing that I cannot help but feel a part of Source itself.

I am alive in every part of my being, and I am happy to be.

When the troubles come—the aches of life, the devastating desires that leave me psychologically and spiritually drooling at the mouth, and in a temporary state of total disregard to my disciplined practices of removal of attachment and the process of opening to submission; driven backwards, spiraled into a place of before, steered by this one afraid of the future, doubtful of abundance, and weary of the judgment of onlookers—still their remains and underpinning of strength and resilience.

Sometimes this state lasts longer than a spell; sometimes it catches me like a net, and I am but again some jagged edged fish trying to cut out of the entrapment of self.

Again, I submerge into this place of dismal ‘daunting-ness,’ doubtful of my light and truth. Doubtful of my calling.

And I suffer here in all degrees, tortured more so by the hauntings of my mind than by the demons about.

Still, in this time, I am made aware—some observer abstracted and set about to mediate the fallings that transpire.

Here I am free, in a sense, unlocked from the earthly bound me, and set high above the dwelling that is neither home nor happening, but this invisible battle between that which is and that which is naught.

Time and time again, I return as foe to myself, only to surrender to that which is all abiding: the light of love.

And here I dance, within and without, borders lifted and fenced-being undone.

I cannot help but rejoice and seem as mad man set out of the cave of darkened days. Arms flailing in a manner suggestive of a playground symphony.

Rejoicing. Rejoined. Recognized.

I am what I am is what I return to; this someone etched by this something, belonging to neither time nor singular purpose.