Alchemist

I take a deep breath before I commit to the page and risk the opening of my heart. That is what it feels like – a risk.

I risk fully feeling my vulnerability, my sense of confusion and despair, the anxious churn underneath the surface that threatens to overwhelm and put me into a place of inaction.

Oh wait, I’m already in that place of inaction, just covering it up with action that is easy to take – action like deleting an email, or reading a Facebook post, or finding something online to purchase, or organizing a drawer or closet – these are all telltale signs of pseudo-action designed to distract me from the raw anxiety underneath. 

The underneath of not enough, it’s too hard, I might fail, it’s too late, I don’t know — all of those anxious feelings deep in the well underneath – combining into a toxic stew that must be kept down and away from the heart – in order to stay alive. 

Every day I must attempt to open a safety valve that lets the toxic stew up to the surface – careful dosing, not enough to overwhelm and kill the host – just enough so that the host can see the toxic stew — smell it, taste it, examine it – bit by bit and in doing so – alchemize the toxic stew into vapor.

As the vapor rises – my soul rises and the eyes grow more clear – the fear stuffed down is witnessed and as my resonant self witness grows – it reaches out to hold my hand and says I’ve got you.