Saturday, August 11, 2012

Being.

August 11, Wayne.

April First just got bumped to August.
Or this: the circus is a jealous witch.
Or maybe leaving my circus life behind today was just more than I can shoulder, still. 
Again I couldn't leave the circus, the thought of leaving this part of me behind agonizing and everything carefully planned turned into a river of frightful tears.  I had so fervently wanted my kids to start school like every other kid, on the first day, to give them the smoothest experience of this important event they could be given, on with the rest of the flow of striving lives coming together, the first day of school, a normal life carefully planned, their new life, two circus kids no more.  My own longing got the best of all this - but they are circus kids and how could it be otherwise.  I close my eyes and ask for forgiveness if they are made to suffer as a consequence of my wrenched heart, the new kids on the block, again, struggling to make friends, again, to blend in, to be just like any other kids.   Did I make the right decision?
I don't know where our emotions and thinking process intersect, where our creativity run into our intellect, where our brain flashes into our heart, but it must be somewhere near the buried, primal gut, somewhere so close to our core it is raw and demanding and ultimately compelling.  Or maybe all our choices are made already, and we are not, as my once favorite French philosopher Sartre wrote, the constructors of our destiny, solely and entirely responsible for building our way through the world, on our own and through our own decisions only, bearing of the heavy burden of our fate as we build it, existential humans, lonely hunters of happiness.
My brother died some twenty years ago and he was searching for the same answers as he struggled against his demons.  They never let go of him and I miss him every day.  My mother thinks of him every minute, I know, and her suffering and her longing I humbly pay homage to as I let myself be today, simply a witness to the burden of my own mistakes and fears, knowing that I don't know, I can't know, all the right answers eluding me, and that I just want to be, and love, fully.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

"Normal" is relative. Like Freidman, Tavana, Tajana and I were born in this business. In our lives we were "normal". Our father and mother taught us school and everything else we know. I have never been in a "normal" classroom. In this business we don't strive to be normal, we strive to be extraordinary. Your children have an amazing bloodline of intelligence and talent ( Is there anything that Freidman can't do ? )so I don't think you have a choice. They are already way beyond your definition of "normal".
Good luck !

Susabelle said...

Bless your heart, Valerie. Rivers of tears are very telling, and taking time is probably what you need. When the right thing is ready to happen, it will. You can't rush the universe you are a part of.

Rose Fox said...

What is normal? Is it something better?

I think you'll find that "normal" is subjective and not a good indicator of happiness.

What don't you want Valerie? Don't do that thing. Don't do what you feel is wrong. Do what you feel is right.

If you don't know what right is, right now, don't worry. The answer will come to you.

Right now just be in the moment. Enjoy its blessings.

Thinking of you.