Monday, November 11, 2013

The Future Is Bright and other sentences told only in the thick of the story

I've lost my writing hands these days, can barely stand to tell any new stories to even myself. But no matter, I convince myself. There are old stories I've nearly memorized that are here to walk me through the dark of disorientation. I walk over to my altar, pull open the tasseled sheer pouch that houses my story-scrolls, and reach in to see which one is reaching out to meet me. It's a tradition derived from card-pulling meets the Torah meets Jen-Lemen-craftiness. 

I pull the Thick One. The one that meets me when I'm at my heart's end. The one that knows doubt and quiet hopelessness--fear and feral longing for a truly better life. The one that I've unravelled and re-raveled so many times over the past year that the origami paper is fraying at the edges and the tape at the end is ridden with residue of glitter and carpet lint. 

Everything will be okay, because you are brave.

I need this one sentence so deeply that I open the beginning of this particular spiral day in and day out just to make sure those words are still there, that sentence is still true. Further in, reminders whisper their way into the depths of me through my cold fingers, rhythmic hands, seesaw wrists, still body. Words spiral down beside me. Tiny breaths. Tiny motions. The story ends and I begin the long process of regathering each word into its rightful spiraled position.

Maybe this is the best we can do when we're wordless in major life transitions. Take walks when the sun shines for the first time in days. Breathe slowly. Read the old stories that gave us solace as we shifted and shed before, can give us solace now as we shift and shed once more. 

Today, I'm sharing this video with you on the off-chance that it's any good (creatively), and on the on-chance that you, too, may be needing the reminder that we truly are okay, us brave-hearted people. That no matter the size of our particular reorientation, there are stories that can help us feel strong as we grow into everything lost and everything found that was ever truly meant for us.

All my love,

PS--It's possible... possible... that I'll make Chapter 2. Maybe even Chapter 3. And who knows if they'll look anything like this, or not. I'm experimenting. The truth is, I have over 25 real stories from my life when I was 25 (remember when I talked about writing a book?!) that I'd love to write by hand onto scrolls. Read aloud. Make into short videos. We'll see. They get personal. Which is what I love about them. They get personal. Which is what makes them super vulnerable to share. 


Darrah said...

Thank you, dear Rachael. I needed these exact words at this exact moment. I feel like the leaf dangling at the end of this video. Just waiting to let go.

Your words are going to stick with me for a long time. "

Open it all the way if you truly want to turn the page."

"You've done a brave thing. It is time to rest."


Kimberley McGill said...

I listen and watched entranced and feeling every unwinding of your story. I feel the courage pressing against the seams of all the stories that are yet untold, maybe even stories you don't even know you have to tell. Much love.

Corinna said...

Oh you sweet sweet woman. I just love your voice and seeing you unroll this scroll and this truth. You came into my life in the sweetest, tenderest time. xo

Anna O. said...

You are a treasure. Thank you.