Friday, November 22, 2013

Five Minute Friday: Fly

I skipped last Friday.  I don't remember why.  Maybe I wasn't feeling it.  Maybe I couldn't find it in me for that five minutes.  Sounds silly.  But sometimes, you just don't want to go that deep.  One thing I've learned participating in this is that it's origins seem to be very Christian based.  I'm not very Christian and I've questioned participating because I wonder if my words aren't exactly what the other writers may have had in  mind.  Obviously, I don't want to offend anyone, or be the wolf in sheep's clothing.  But today, while reading the Five Minute Friday post on Lisa-Jo Baker's blog, she had included some words from someone named Gretchen that spoke to me:  But we’re not writing for the rest of the web; we’re writing for that audience of One, and often to process the lesson or healing He is leading us through.   That wasn't the only thing seemingly brilliant Gretchen wrote.  Click the link to read the rest.

Every week (ok, except last week) I write.  And like Gretchen, I've realized that there is often a real message in Five Minute Fridays.  I'm not going to question where it comes from, perhaps I'm at a turning point and it is my time to accept God as he is presented.  Perhaps it is the God I've come to know in my life.  Perhaps I am the audience of One I am to be writing for right now.  But...I'm going to keep participating because there is something here.   

Anyway, every week I write all this "extra", and now I'm ready to write.  I already know this is going to take more than Five Minutes, but let's roll!



Five Minute Friday


Fly.  It's what I've been trying to do for weeks.  The truth is...I feel like I've forgotten how.  I knew many years ago.  I wasn't perfect, but I loved who I was.  I had spent many years getting to know people who helped build me up, who loved me, who encouraged me...people who reminded me that I had wings.  People who supported me in my baby steps and my first flights, eased my fears, and called me "Dove" .  And at the beginning of the relationship I just ended, I knew how to fly. 

Slowly but surely, with every time I forgave a wrong doing and believed the promises of change only to have the injustice spring back up and hit me in the face, I forgot how to fly.  With every time that I accepted being treated like less than I was worth, I held out my wing and another feather was clipped short and rendered incapable of carrying me to the heights which I had grown to know and love. 

I've struggled with personal forgiveness all while asking myself why I gave away my ability to fly to be caged.  And that is how I felt...trapped, held tight in a corner of the room, occasionally having a blanket thrown over me so I couldn't see the light.  Like I couldn't be free to be and do what I wanted.  I think on some level, I felt like I needed to change who I was..."grow up", stop being so young and wild and free and bed down and nest in order to have the love I so desperately craved.  Yes, I said desperate.  I didn't feel desperate at the time.  At the time, I felt wanted and sexy and adored and loved.  As I was slowly being put into a cage, something in me equated being locked away from the world to being cherished...you know, like the screwed up way locking up Rapunzel was love (holy crap, maybe this is Stockholm Syndrome).  

When things started turning sour, I thought it was because I didn't know how to be in that kind of relationship.  It was new to me and I don't always accept change with open arms.  I thought I had maybe built up some kind of fear of commitment or had some kind of irrational fear on account of only one previous relationship that had gotten that serious and ended with me picking up the shattered pieces of my broken heart.  I thought I was being immature.  I was TOLD I was being immature and childish.  

I wasn't acting childish.  No.  Looking back...I was flapping my wings and fighting.  Instinct and the love of flying was trying to fight being put into a cage.  Meanwhile the part of me that believed I needed to be docile to achieve the love I wanted was compliantly holding out a wing for another snip under the guise of forgiveness. 

Docile.  It's an ugly word and as I type it I feel like something disgusting is rising up in me.  I let go of who I was because I felt like those things didn't have a place in a relationship.  Looking back, a relationship that does not have a place for all of the things I am or demands I be docile is no relationship I want or need to be in.  A relationship where I'm not encouraged or allowed to fly is a fate worse than death. 

Gosh.  That makes me things of Hannibal Lecter when he speaks about roller pigeons.  I went searching for a quote because it is too good not to share.  
Do you know what a roller pigeon is, Barney? They climb high and fast, then roll over and fall just as fast toward the earth. There are shallow rollers and deep rollers. You can’t breed two deep rollers, or their young will roll all the way down, hit, and die. Officer Starling is a deep roller, Barney. We should hope one of her parents was not.
You know....interestingly enough, a Starling is a bird.  Hmmm.  Interesting.  It appears I'm a deep roller, and it also seems that perhaps one of MY parents was not as I have yet to roll all the way down and die.  And in hindsight, I think I'd rather keep rolling and hoping that one of my parents was not a deep roller than be caged up and not allowed to climb high and fast and roll. 

Here I am now.  I've been struggling.  I've felt like I'm on the ledge and all I need to do is jump because there is something else I'm supposed to be doing but I don't know what to do after I jump.  I've been feeling like while my existence right now is fine and I could spend the rest of my life living this way...it isn't what I'm supposed to be doing.  To accept where I am right now in mind, body and spirit, would be settling.  Not only would it be settling but it would be settling for mediocre.  I feel like I am not walking the path that I am supposed to be walking.  I feel this pending change and it is overwhelming.  I feel the urge to step up and get started but I don't know where to start.

And then today.  The word is Fly.  And that is the answer.  I feel like I've been sitting here, growing antsy and anxious, feeling like I ought to be doing something.  It feels much like cabin-fever does in April...like going crazy.  Maybe this is the edge of madness.  Or maybe, just maybe, I've been sitting here...letting my wings grow back, healing and building the courage to fly again. 

*Wow.  That Five Minutes turned into much more today.  If you made it with me to the end, I thank you and appreciate your presence.*