I have always wanted to be Free.
Free from the rules and roles imposed on me by my gender, the dogma of my childhood religion, the expectations and projections of my parents, the culture of my birth.
Free to utilise time as a gift instead of a whip.
At times I managed to break free from some of these, with varying levels of success.
But the act of breaking free leaves little wounds that needs to be held and healed with care. If not, they sometimes become gaping holes that need to feed and feed, to eventually breed a different state of captivity again.
Breaking free without taking care can sometimes leave one without an origin, or a story, or a shape.
It can leave one addicted, or untethered, and sometimes lost on the Plains of Emptiness.
Sometimes breaking free can send one on a quest for new shackles, like a newly released prisoner committing a petty crime just to get to go back to the safe familiarity of captivity.
Today I vow to take care of myself, and my freedom.
To honour my gifts and tend to my wounds.
To take care of my body and my heart-mind and my spirit and my spoons.
To look for the arrows and listen to the birds.
To trust the process, and know that I am Sister to the wisteria tree in my back garden.
On this rainy Thursday in September, I find myself Free.
I know that it will take as long as it takes.
I pray for courage to take action when the time comes.
And for poems.
Daily Braveries 