“If you want to save me, you’ll have to stand in line.” I’ve said this many times. It’s a helluva long line.
A CD full of video, pictures, memories of family was playing on the TV. Gifted to my parents at an 50-something anniversary party I wasn’t welcome at. Nieces and nephews and babies I don’t know.
I am not good enough to include. I might contaminate the well, like a poisonous toad. My ideas are dangerous! They could get somebody damned to eternal oblivion! Somebody might get possessed. That’s handing the Devil your house-key and inviting him in for a drink.
I didn’t know seeing it would bother me until it did. But I braved every bit, all the way through until my brother finished by talking about how much he’s looking forward to living in paradise with them.
Everybody knows, I won’t be there. Not the “right heart condition.” Sounds like something that would keep me off a ride at Disneyland, not a fatal flaw that keeps you from entering God’s Kingdom. It’s means unrepentant, unbeliever, unsalvageable.
“Why give me this?” I wonder aloud through the blur of tears. To share some love, or take another shot to save me? Feels like a shot AT me. But it doesn’t matter. Pragmatically, all one and the same.
“What is it that is dead and needs a burial? Is it an old point of view, something you’ve outgrown but not all of you realizes it? There is something here that you need to scrape from your life. It’s doggin’ you still.” -My Astrologer
The words buzz around in my head. I know they’re important, but I don’t know where they fit. Which cubby do they go into? It’s a muffled but familiar song, and I can’t quite remember the tune. Only I know it’s haunting me, whispers echoing in the dark.
Mercury’s sending a cable from the underworld. This doesn’t live without. It lives within. My astrologer tells me, “You ARE Mercury touring the underworld.”
Really, she’s right. I know the darkness and I find it’s hard to get the lingering smell off. The black Toad came to visit the black sheep. We are kindred. Looked down upon. Reviled. Pitied. Feared.
Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. Fat. Wrong. Weird. Crazy. Immoral. Irresponsible. Not a quality human being. Broken. Unacceptable. Deluded. Confused. Stubborn. Impossible. Lacking. Eternally lacking.
“Shhh! Maybe nobody will notice…maybe they’re not right. Maybe I can just fly under the radar and be happy in my ignorance of my deficits.”
I’ve blamed it on my chart. Saturn and Pluto, bitch-slapping the moon. Saturn-Mercury, always telling me to shut the Hell up. Uranus, making me a freak. I’ve blamed it on childhood, on exes, on society, on “them,” and on God. Who haven’t I blamed?
But it wasn’t anybody else. It never could be. Nobody else could make me feel that way, not without my compliance.
It keeps a wall between a person and their power, if they deny themselves their own identity. There’s a limit, how far you can shine when you keep a tarp over your light.
I’m trying to toss out the tarp.
Do people want to save you?