In the Belly of the Beast

This entry is a lot darker than some.  It may also be a lot harder to understand.  I'm not sure I really understand it completely.  It demanded to be written.  Things are not always upbeat and positive for me.  I have days when I struggle with my inner demons. This last week was a very difficult one for many of us in my family.  My husband and I got into a nasty argument.  I lost my temper with my son and screamed at him.  I was very ashamed of myself and wondered how I dare write about listening to my family members and children when I could act so badly.  I had to force myself to sit down with these unwelcome feelings and make peace with them.  This entry is the story of that struggle.

Some emotions are so raw that you can't swallow them.  Instead they swallow you.  Last night I sat in their belly.  It's a frightening place to be.  I want to walk confidently into each  tomorrow but some times I fall overboard.  I struggle against feelings that I hate.  The more I struggle the harder my life can be.

In my mind I have a standard, an ideal that I reach for.  Some days I do a good job.  There are other days when I am swallowed whole.  Darkness envelopes me with a savage swallow.  I try and count my enemy's bones. "1-2-3. . ." I lose count and begin again, "1-2-3-4" and forget.  "1-2-3-4-5."  My heart spins and falls, gracefully spiraling down the darkness.  Could there be a raw and savage beauty here?   I sense it but can not see it.

Exhausted, I don't want to fight any longer.  I collapse into a pool of acid and half-digested chunks of life.  My cries echo against the belly's walls.  They shout tales of loneliness, abandon. They spew curses at fate and fortune.  They shake their fists at God and demand to know why.  Only silence answers.  It points the blame at me with a stone-like silence.  I rise to bash my soul against it.  Finally, broken and defeated, pieces of me lie at my feet like shards of broken glass.  This can not be mended.  There are too many pieces.

I fall into a dreamless sleep and awaken in the dark.  I begin the work of cleaning up the broken pieces. There really is nothing else to be done.  I remember a quote long forgotten, "Broken again and again upon the sea, the moon mends so easily."

The words spill into the wound left by last night's pain.  It cleanses.  It purifies.  It forgives, if but just a little.

I am accused and accuser, judge and jury, angel and demon.  Today becomes an atonement for all the days before.  On the altar of life I am the sacrifice.  I raise all that I am and let go.  Broken pieces fall to earth.  The Light and the Darkness dance in worship.  I drink in all that is holy and damned and offer it back again.