fragments of childhood

what childhood? the one where the landscape of the yard was a never ending tapestry of play and discovery? or the one where your idol gets lost right in front of you? the one where magic was infinite every time you walked outside? or the one where tears don't stop, they stream, they flood, overwhelming the world? 

i forget the little girl who was innocent and full of light and wonder, fuzzy images linger of spending endless hours in nature with the fairies. I remember the little girl who felt EVERYTHING. ever attentive, tracking, tracking tracking. everything. managing. always watching for the next incoming storm. a weather girl long before i had tv. i remember the girl who became an actress, a performer, the only safe place to express big feelings and erradicate pain. 

i drift back through memories tying to weave some sanity from crazy and all i see are frayed edges and broke pieces. a family ripped in half. new daddies that would come and go. mommy working. single room homes with one bed to sleep. waking while my mom painted under her clip on lights through the night. strange men touching my innocent places in the spaces between. 

me, always facing pages, eating books for nourishment, for learning, for understanding, for escape to other worlds. safer worlds. yet it never escaped me that something was missing  even though i was too young to know. i am still to young to know. to feel the fracture.

i grew ever curious, hungry for more, seeking salve for healing through understanding. 

how do you turn poison into gold? what do you do with an unexpected snake bite that leaves venom coursing through your veins that you try to contain and so you swallow again and again and again. watching. tracking. listening. 

cultivating mastery looking through child eyes. with skinny legs and lanky arms, an awkward match for the growing sage inside. a raw intuition taking deep root intertwining the watching, feeling, awkward, magical, realness of me. 

i remember the girl that liked to laugh and climb trees because she always was looking for a better view. a better angle from which to see, to maybe find the piece of the puzzle that could fix what was broken. climbing for fresh air to fill lungs and blow the aching burn away. 

i spoke with some one recently about dharma. is it possible our dharma is actually our greatest wound? the place where we're fractured is where the light comes through. and we fracture so we shine. and yet as a grown woman I feel awkward, an alien. my body is fully grown and well versed at fitting in, and fending off, and caring for, and living forward. my mind no longer doing a good job of navigating the fractured road so well. a searching soul seeking intergration.

maybe it's time again to return to roots and climb trees and surrender old stories and breathe. breathe into the backyard of the past, and turn my face toward the sun, and turn the poison of the past into the medicine i am here to be and receive.