I Am Whole
A most restless night of unbearable silence and mystery. I found myself repeating, “I Am Whole, I Am Whole…” My heart racing and my body bracing to contain the pain that I must hold to be whole. Waiting, trusting, doubting, regretting, believing, weakening in my resolve. Wondering how much that’s going to solve?
Staring at a blank wall with a big guitar hanging before me. A guitar with cracks. A guitar that was never mine, just dabbling with on borrowed time. Looking at the paintings eked out and trapped in little frames, just a small gesture of what lies within, untapped, unseen, unshared, unheard, unheld. Wanting so desperately to cut to the end scene where it’s all been accomplished and I stand there in all my glory taking it in. Proud. Fulfilled. Uttering those sweet words, “I did it.”
Tears come and ruin the lovely complacency. They break the contracts over and over again. I find no room for myself in those wordy little documents. No room for myself in those glass beakers. No room for myself in machines, whether automobiles or the gears of logic. So best to say nothing. Best to just feel. Best to unravel. Step away from the wheel.