Going it Alone
“What if I’m scared? What if I’m not yet ready to go it alone?”
“Then maybe you weren’t ready to go with someone to begin with.”
This is the story of a (very) young woman who’s chosen bravely to give this a try, to try going it alone for a while. Shoulders turned inward to the world, crying fearful tears she is not yet ready to bloom, but by the time spring rolls around you might find her amongst the crowd of bright-green clovers, chasing her dreams. Back and forth she’ll see-saw just hoping this was the right decision, but the canyon birds will coo her helium head back down to the ground. She needs them, especially on grey days. And the mountains will happily take her memories and store them for another time when she’s ready to visit them again, but for now she grieves the loss of her best friend, lover and confidant.
“Will you hold me?” she asks…
But there’s no response. She’s the only one who can hold herself. In the face of a heavy journey, headlong and strong she must be to take it now day by day, hour by hour.
My mother always pushed me to leave my comfort zone: “I’m sending you away to sleep-away camp,” she’d say; “you should really join the jazz band;” “when are you going to start performing on your own?;” “to be honest, I think you’re a little out of his league.” This time I got up the courage to leave my comfort zone on my own, and it’s never been harder. Shouldn’t I feel free? Shouldn’t I feel a weight lifted off my chest? As I decompose in the front seat of my car I notice I feel just the opposite. How can a decision so right feel so wrong?
I’ve just walked a path that ended somewhere I could be, but didn’t necessarily want to be. I want to end up down in the groves - lush, green, nutritious, where waters run dark blue like low hums of a symphony during its 2nd movement. Instead I would’ve ended up at the top of a desolate mountain. It feels like I’ve shed my tears everywhere, on everyone and everything, just as tall white trees lose their big yellow leaves in the fall, covering every surrounding bush. And I’ll keep crying until every leaf has fallen off its branch, and I’m ready to grow, grow again. Maybe this is important; the way I feel now, in the scheme of my life. Maybe it’s meant to happen this way - for what reason I’m excited to discover, when I find out what it’s truly like to go it alone.
