You got to know when to hold em,
Know when to fold em
Know when to walk away,
Know when to run.
Kenny Rodgers, The Gambler
I don’t know when to hold anything in. I am sorry. Sofa king sorry.
I have walk away. I know this. I should probably run. But I don’t know how.
Quote of the night last night
“Sarah, you might be the most honest person on this island.”
Yep, I might be. Pretty fucking sure I am. I cannot lie, even when I really should.
But I’m coming to see that that is not always a good thing.
Words are literal magic. I create what I speak, that is why they call it spelling.
I cast my future, my wishes and my wants with my words.
And I have not been using them wisely.
There is also a heavily quoted quote about
“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”― Anne Lamott
That too.
Which is actually what triggered this thought, which is quickly turning itself into an wordy article.
I have successfully eliminated 2 vexing individuals from my life with things I wrote. This pleases me.
I have alienated others purely by speaking too much truth in the wrong places.
Back in the day, when I started this blog, I had a crush on a man and instead of telling him how I felt I wrote an article and somehow thought he would see it. He didn’t.
It didn’t work and the window closed.
Mind you, he had to leave, there was no choice to be made so I suppose, by letting the window close on its own, without interfering I did him a kindness.
I think I finally grew up when I realized that actual true love is wanting the other person to be happy, even if that means staying away from them. Active participation in someone else’s happiness even if it means a sacrifice on your part.
Sit down, shut up and stay out of the way.
There has to be a balance between words, wishes, wants and actually doing something about it.
Lesson learned.
Also, there are things that should never be spoken of.
Not because I don’t want to remember, but because they are sacred, or I really actually fucked up beyond all words and reasoning.
My blog, my rules. I can write to remember and not hit publish.
It’s not a diary darling.
Once upon a time I sat in the Monastery Spa and Suites (by myself) and had the most fucked up conversation.
I turned it over and over in my head, this was something that really should have been written about, it would have made an amazing post and it seemed too crazy to be real, but real it was. I tortured myself for day about how I could get this pearl out of the oyster without hurting anyone.
After a few days I realized it wasn’t possible and I let it go.
I have entered into a covenant with Cronos the God of time and Dionysus the god of debauchery about erasing a monumental fuck up. I know what happened, I have my own memories that will suffice, even with the blank spots. Yes I done did it, and no we don’t need to talk about it.
Some things need to stay in the vault.
I would like to believe that in every library and archive there is a secret compartment full of things that are absolute truth and yet completely unknown to anyone but the author.
Things that I loved, things that I lost, things I held sacred that I dropped. Audioslave, Doesn’t Remind Me
Its true, some people are best loved at a great distance and silently. I keep a short list. I came to the conclusion long ago (with some help from sages greater then me, and certain magic potions) that some, maybe most, people understand love as something they lack and have to get from others. They look to be loved. When they think they are not, they fear they never will be. When they think they are, they fear they will loose it, or someone will steal it. They suffer. The way out of that trap is to understand it a a thing to do, a way to be, a light, perhaps, from within or beyond, that the feeling of loving, not as an exchange, but as a gift is the magic. Because it is magic, and magic sacred to all the gods that ever were or can be who are worthy of the name, it is both attractive to and feared by those who seek to be loved or bargain for it, it not being uniquely about them.