Photo taken by my beloved Hansel in Prescott, AZ. He so very rocks.
When I was little my Dad would read to me from the book of Nostradamus before I went to sleep. He was the first person to teach me how to draw in perspective and how to do Yoga in the morning. And he would take us to the park almost every other weekend when he picked us up--and we had to walk very softly--very quietly--so no-one would hear us. (Obviously some residue from being in Vietnam.)
Now, you have to understand, I barely knew my Dad. Around age 8 or 9 he got remarried and that was the end of that.
But those are the things I remember about him. Except honestly, his energy has lived with me through out my entire life. I've had to battle it--falsely befriend it--and now, I believe I've learned to dance with it. To wrap my arm around the small of it's back and waltz.
His energy no longer haunts me--hooray!
Or keeps me up late at night--haha!.
His energy no longer controls my relationships or dictates my decisions by tricking me to think the past will repeat itself in others.
Truth is, sometimes, we forget that our parents are human.
Sure--that is an easy thing to say--especially when they are actually in our lives--and their "humanness" appears in the things we dislike or might have hurt us.
But it's a different story when they leave you--fail tragically to be what is expected of a parent--give you a load of emotional hardship and pain to play with. It's difficult to cough it up to that our parents are only human.
Though I have lived with a father who has been present the majority of my life only as memory and energy. Sooner or later one arrives at a point where you need to release what no longer serves you, and honor the simple humanity of a being, whose pure absence has helped form and deliver you this one Creative Juicy, BIG, Beautiful Life.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. From the deepest seat of my heart, I am grateful for all the decisions that you made, and for the courage you have prompted in me to finally let you go completely.
5 comments:
My comment disappeared before so now I'll try again. Very heartfelt post. It is hard to understand how and why things happen in life. Remember that as we grow and become the person who we really are inside, friends become family and we choose an inner circle that supports and nourishes us.
Your art and creativity are a gift and inspiration to many of us. Keep on doing what you're doing and inspiring others to find their voice. Connie, I can definitely see a book coming out of you someday.
your Dad missed out on a lot disappearing like that - A BIG lot.... i honour your courage and grace seeing him as human... i am battling a similar fight - with a mother who is still here but not present... and i wrote about it on my blog today... reading this supports me in all kinds of ways
ps it is on this blog
http://loveisalwayswaitingtobechosen.blogspot.com
This is a very moving post and I am so with you on both letting go and yet somehow acknowledging the gift in the pain.
You are amazing. Thank you for all the incredible inspiration
I just read and then sat back and stared at my ceiling for awhile ...spinning slowly in my chair. Only a few days ago I stopped lurking and started writing and in that time you have managed to strike the heart of me with such vision, beauty and passion. I'm so inspired and moved by you.
My family story is complicated with a father who left and a father who stayed and lots of pain, happiness and confusion in between. I have wrestled and danced as you have and found my way through to my own version of peace, a peace I still work on.
But you have clearly broken free ...I can see your wings, bright, colorful with sunshine dancing upon the tips of them. You wear the colors of your life so boldly that you are visible even in darkness...I celebrate your journey - the pain, the freedom, the love all of it and thank you once again for sharing it here ..for changing lives by simply sharing your own.
And this photo by Hansel is so amazing....it looks like the tree with its mixture of strength and frailty has found grace in its dance with the water.
Post a Comment