Monday, April 9, 2012

Flame


from here


Some days I wander around the place a little aimlessly, crying off and on in an almost distracted way. Going from calm, humming, puttering mode to ugly crying, hands-over-face-snotty-mess and back again, easily. Today I was in this phase of back and forth, talking to Dave, working on a poster for a friend, and doing laundry when it occurred to me that I will have to protect my delicate urge to do something new with my life. I will have to think of that tiny flame as a precious, precious thing and guard it, fight for it, claw and gnaw my way to it, until it is a roaring bonfire. I will have to be like my own little superhero, inside myself, beating back thoughts of doubt and fear. I have to bludgeon the hell out of them or they’ll extinguish the little flame. I have to build a little shelter around it and tend it.

I sat at the desk in front of the window, taking a little break from drawing and talking out loud to Dave. It’s one of those days here when the sun keeps playing peekaboo with the clouds and it suddenly broke through a thick clot of steel gray and shone down directly on me. I thought of Dave sending me that sunbeam and realized how much his death has made me the kind of person who entertains thoughts like “my dead husband sent me a sunbeam”, instead of explaining it away with science and coincidence. Now, it’s simple. Nothing is explainable anymore. Nothing is impossible. If Dave could be taken from this life like he was, than anything is possible.  And I honestly don’t care if the sunbeams come from Dave or not. I don’t care what might be true. Only what could be.

That sunbeam was like a blessing. Encouragement from the Universe (which to me, IS Dave. They are indistinguishable to me).
You can do it. You can do what most people try without success to do. You can fiercely protect the urge to find happiness. You can beat back the fear of taking the leap and let the flame grow. You can do what you thought you couldn’t. And, in fact, that is exactly why you should do it. Because you thought you couldn’t.

I want to write and make art and see how those things make others happy. Or changed. Or different in some way. I want to do those things because I want to, not because they will make me a living. What I want has to come first and the rest will come along for the ride. This is the hardest thing for me to tell myself. I’m the daughter of a man who had a depression mentality. He worked his ass off because that’s what you did. You didn’t take time for “yourself” because that was ludicrous and self-serving. You did what would bring in the money whether you liked it or not. You go to school to get a good job and make money. Period. And I was with someone with similar values for 15 years. The voice of logic is very loud and convincing.
Hey, the economy sucks and you are giving up a job that pays well and has great benefits AND gives you tons of time off. ARE YOU NUTS?!

Well yes, I am, but that’s beside the point. Maybe I might have to work at a job I don’t love so I can do what I love. But maybe it’s possible to make a living doing what I love, too. It could happen. It might take sacrifice. It might take hard work. It might be scary, scary stuff, but it could happen.

So I’ll keep tending that flame and protecting it like a mama bear protects her vulnerable little cub. Keep it close and warm and treat it like the miracle it is. And I'll keep letting the sunbeams remind me that I'm on the right track. 


11 comments:

  1. Cassie - thank you for the Amazon post.
    That is what I thought when I saw the flame. I had a day like that yesterday, a morning like that today. The wandering "going from calm, humming, puttering mode to ugly crying, hands-over-face-snotty-mess and back again, easily. Today I was in this phase of back and forth"
    Yeah - that was my 24 hours.
    I was speaking to my husband last night saying "I wish, you didn't have to leave because I don't know how to start over. Even though it is almost a year and a half and I keep trying, keep rising again. It is so incredibly hard without you"
    I am a writer - after he died. I wrote non stop for six months.
    Now? I am lucky to get a paragraph on the page.
    This is my art too. But I am so stuck it is scaring the sht out of me!
    But . . . .it is my small flame. I am going to protect it. I have been writing so long that I don't know anything else.
    I am going to go up there and write even if it is only one paragraph, because someday it will come to the page like an inferno again. I know I just have to show up.
    Yeah _ I do that too. Say "hey thank you for sending the birds to the feeder and for the sunshine, for a perfect sunny day that I can walk the dog in".
    Maybe that's the miracle - just be and see it and not forget the flame.

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  2. LOVE. Love, love, love your flame Cassie.

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  3. Beautiful... thank you!

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  4. Thank you so much for your honesty. I wish I didn't understand. I wish I couldn't relate. I wish I could only feel sympathy instead of an overwhelming kinship. But I do understand. I can relate. And if I could hug you and thank you from my own tear-crumpled face -- I would.

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    Replies
    1. Two tear-crumpled faces hugging and thanking. :)

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  5. Anonymous April 9, 2012


    I do understand, but I am still so wounded, angry and sad...just sad. I search for him in the
    wind, sun,snap of a twig. Know one will care about me like he did...Two shall become one, no more.
    Hugs help.

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    Replies
    1. Yes, they do help. Sending a bunch of virtual ones your way.

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  6. Thank you for reminding me of that flame. I think I've been letting it die out a little lately...
    I too am figuring out whether to stay at a job I don't love anymore or do something I love. But I just haven't figured out what I love that can pay some money yet!

    And this made me laugh! "...his death has made me the kind of person who entertains thoughts like 'my dead husband sent me a sunbeam'..." I KNOW! And I can't share this stuff with my friends!

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    Replies
    1. Right. It's such a complex situation so difficult to explain to those who haven't experienced it. It's a good test for me as a writer to try to give words to it.

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  7. "My dead husband sent me a sunbeam" ... and all the rainbows and 11s and feathers .... yes!
    For me - its my photographic hobby that is my flame.

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  8. Cassie, keep KNOWING the sunbeams come from Dave because they do. My Tim has sent me MANY signs and science cannot explain it. Tell us and those you can trust because We Get It.
    My work flame of a great job with amazing benefits burned out in January after 31 years of grant funding and I have been gainfully unemployed since then. I was frightened at first but I knew it would lead me to a new path. It has been an amazing experience to focus on new dreams. I've taken a creative writing course, another course in Jungian psychology, dream interpretation and synchronicity. Read about synchronicity and know that these signs from our loves are not coincidences but real. Our loves have opened a deeper universe and intuitive place for us to trust. You know it when you write about your flame. Keep it burning brightly!

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