Chelseas not a character in my novel, but shes who made an appearance in my writing today. I dont normally do this, but something tells me today, I should make an exception. Im not putting it on my blog, because it doesnt quite fit there. So, until I figure out what I want to do to make it more accessible, Ill put it here. Below the cut. * ** *** **** About Chelsea Its been years since she last felt this convergence of hope and despair. Her passion, her fervent belief in the goodness of people and her hope, directly at odds with the hulking shadows of cynicism and disappointment lurking just outside. Chelsea has a light that shines; it radiates from her core, not unlike the paintings of Hindu deities and the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The light is so bold, so bright, when people look at her, they see an angel. Shell deny this. Shell tell you angels are cliché, and even so, shes far too human. The people around her admire her; the observation probably goes without saying. But for all their admiration, they do everything they can to dull her light: with soot and ash, they cover her in gloom as with a blanket over a noisy bird at night. They love her optimism, they say, but they cant afford to let her light shine on them. They cant afford to hope. Now, Chelsea could see this as a problem. She could stand on her pedestal and shout over the caterwauling cynics. She could scream, “Dont you see? This is your choice! Youre doing this to yourselves! Every time you say, I cant afford hope, you give room to the darkness!” She could. But, with light comes enlightenment (another charge shell deny), and shes enlightened enough to know – though no one would blame her, and many would thank her – shed be dimming her own hearts lamp, just a little. And she cant afford that. She needs that hope. Its been years since Chelsea last succumbed to the darkness. She doesnt miss those days, but she doesnt regret them, either. “For without the darkness, one can never truly see the light.” Or something like that. These days, Chelsea is on a mission to live fully, laugh heartily, love completely, and grow without abandon. Shes not concerned with being a great influence, a teacher or leader. She is content just to Be. Because there was a time when “just Being” seemed so far out of reach. The funny thing about Chelsea, despite her intentions, is her influence. She is humble and witty. She doesnt preach. Her light radiates from her eyes and she really does glow. She seems not to be “from here”. Everyone loves her, because of who she is. But Chelsea is no saint. Many times the effort to keep her candle lit exhausts her. So much so, she lays her head on her pillow some nights, and wakes in the morning to find it wet with her tears. She is full of doubt of her own worthiness: as a mother, wife, friend, neighbor. As a human. The hulking shadows around her close in. And the fear of losing her light, that radiance that keeps her alive, is sometimes so intense, her glow is only an ember. For Chelsea, all it takes to keep the shadows at bay is to breathe long enough to keep that ember glowing, long enough for someone to stoke her fire. When you see Chelsea, dont tell her shes a saint, shes an angel. Dont tell her you wish the world was made up of more people like her, you wish you could be more like her. Every time you say these words, you throw ashes on her fire. When you see Chelsea, reach out with a small piece of tinder. Light it at both ends. Break it in half – leave her one piece, and put the other in your pocket. Because shell need it later, and you need it now. “For a candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.” And its been years since we were all aglow with flame. ©Abby Angryowl - 11/5/2014
Posted on: Wed, 05 Nov 2014 16:43:45 +0000
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