E N D U R E

Sometimes Mum thinks of Dad and while something deep inside of her knows he’s not responsible for the sad state of affairs her life has taken she’s found it easier to live life clinging to the part that sits closer to the surface, the part that blames him for her pain.  She does this to avoid looking at how she is responsible for her own pain because it’s a censurable truth that in facing and without saying a word turns away to leave the burden of responsibility within to move tentatively forward under the weight of discovery that leads first to lonely conviction before unification with the One that both gently and harshly sentences the Self to difficult change. 

Mum’s washed her hands of him but it’s not her hands that she uses when bringing him up three times a year.  On my birthday and Christmas she asks if he’s kept in touch with me and on her birthday she asks why I think he ran away and while she doesn’t add the words ‘from her’ at the end I know this is what she means. My answers and emotional responses to those questions have changed over the years and this may be why she still asks.

Mum has in the past admitted to not really ever knowing or understanding him but loving him regardless.  So my answers begin in the place that within me does understand him to express that he or we do not keep ‘in touch’ as it were and I Ieave my answer there because it’s simple and allows me to avoid expressing a truth less simple, a truth wherein lie lessons that aren’t mine to determine are hers to learn or mine to teach.  Dad lives in another world and much of the time so do I and in our worlds the meaning of “keep in touch” is lost among the parody of “see you later” that hides somewhere in mystery forests of “goodbye”.  There was once a place within me that longed for him to keep in touch but it was a longing to have my life justified and when in hunger his actions could not pacify my existence through the feeding of a worthiness bottle I did for a while die but only to arise after being held and fed by the spirit that pushed me to seek milk from within to know I am food that can be neither hunted nor stolen, neither shall any parts be wasted or left to rot because in nourishing myself I allow the proliferation of love that nourishes others.  So it is by existence that worthiness is known and shall life seek greater justification than this it will fail by design.

Why he ran from her is an answer she will not find resolution with because it is of circular reference as it is also to ask why one does not run.  My answer is a simple refrain of “I don’t know” and while elementally true it is more truthful that “Another’s run is of no consequence to the value of your existence” but I don’t say this because it’s my answer and not hers.  All I know is that my freedom expands each time I put away my own running shoes of hide and seek because it’s just me hiding to find me after all.

No one runs to die, only to live. 

May we all run in diligence and strength to endure long distances until arriving at home base, the place where being ‘it’ means we’ve caught our own breath to find rest that removes our shoes and peace that puts them away forever.