“The Force that through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower” ~ Dylan Thomas

I have heard it said that the only reasonable person to
compare ourselves to, is ourselves.
I was questioning what really had changed for me during this
time of illness and convalescence. What had I learned. Had I become more
anything, tenacious, responsible, accountable? And I thought about where I was
7 years ago.
7 years ago, I was living in a studio apartment in Seoul,
South Korea, nearing the end of my year-long English teaching contract, which
was to end in February, and send me out again into the world. To give an idea
of who and how I was at this time, I had, a few weeks earlier, made a bet with
myself, to sleep in those 10 weekends with ten different men. I nearly made the
bet. I was a stumbling, loud drunk. I was heartbroken over a guy who eventually
told me that he “liked me a lot,” when I admitted that I’d been in love with
him. I was a mess.
Why choose 7 years ago specifically? Well, it was three
months, two continents, and one cross-country road trip later when I landed in
San Francisco, and got sober. I always get a little reflect-y around this time
of the year, thinking of how simply awful things were, and how I had no idea,
well, not really much of one, of how much in a loop of misery I was.
My eye is healing. There’s a wonderfully gross looking scab
on it, but it will heal. My friend yesterday was marveling at how our bodies
have the miraculous capacity to rebuild, and reform. To normalize, heal, and
recover, without much work on our part. It just happens. Our bodies heal.
Without much work on my part (well, I’ll take a little
credit, and acknowledge the acres of people around and before me) my life has
normalized to something. Something much
different than it was 7 years ago.
I was informed yesterday that my landlord has not been waiving my rent, but, rather, I now owe about
$3000 in back rent. And, you know what. So what. It will heal. It’ll take time,
and planning and responsibility, but it will heal. It’s just money.
This whole, what am I supposed to do with my life,
mind-trip, you know what? Either I’ll get it this life, or I won’t, and I’ll
get the chance to try again next round. It will heal, or it won’t. I will still
continue to do what I can and what is indicated to help me “fulfill my
potential,” but you know what? In the end, it will be what it will be. I am not the force that pushes flower. I am just the
green fuse.
Knowing that if I simply continue to do what has kept me
safe and sober for almost 7 years, that I will be given the opportunity to heal
and grow, that’s the only certainty. (And with the big ole cancer thing, time
itself isn’t certain.) But the only thing I can do is put one letter in front
of the other, cry when I need to cry, make a phone call when I need to take
action. And just be. I am not the force. I am just the fuse. 

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