I struggle with this inherent obsession with fire - the concept that one has to go through it to be pure, that somehow for anything worthwhile to happen, one must undergo the agony of burning, that essentially, impurities are bad, and need to be burnt away - to be a perfect you - pure, untouched, true. As if, anything less, is just that - less, surface, superficial. That depth is required and pain to emerge victorious - What then if I dont want to be the pure, perfect ideal that seems to be so strive-worthy - what then if I want to just be as I am - allowed to skim the surface, able to dive in and dive out when i feel like it, climb mountains, be a couch potato, think feel love within me. What then if all i want is for the flames of the fire to lick me so that i know what they feel like, and want the cool breeze to blow them away? will that leave me unwanted - undesired, untested and therefore incomplete. Do I have to bring forth a child from my womb to know the pain and joy of being a mother? Do I have to die to know what death feels like? Do I have to break before i can be put back together? Do i really have to burn and show my scars to meet the saviour? Is there a saviour or is this another way of telling me that nothing i do or say will ever be enough? That an all consuming fire that devours everything that is you is the only way out of this vortex of life - and that is the ultimate ideal - not to live, but to escape - albeit in a purer form...Can i just choose to be my incomplete, imperfect, impure me and skim over the surface of water like a stone playfully thrown, cause ripples, hear the gurgling giggle of a child, smile freely, love, fly and sink in happiness?
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 05:10:49 +0000
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