I am a forgotten relic of a forgotten time waiting to be discovered again.
Regardless of my circumstances the future, blended with hope, prevails. No matter how often my faith has been tested, I endure the vision of a colorful skyline through the billowing soot. I maintain such a fault of character.
A relic is a treasure, but a forgotten relic is disposed of in neglect. I have suffered loss on a scale I did not think possible by the hands of one I trusted. Today, my dear reader, I will speak frankly to the intimations of my posts these past months, for I am soon to be reborn from the great cimmerian depths of another’s darkness.
April 1st, 2019 I stand in a micro-culture of myopic tautology where justice is weaponized against a guiltless party. My crime lie in my poor judgement of trust, first with a spouse, then with a lawyer, and finally a system intended to protect its citizens transforming into the perpetrator itself.
In this ordeal, how do I find the right access to my words? Having lost my job and still jobless, I am punished; having pled my case, I am still condemned. Am I in contempt? Only in the irrational mind, yet I am at the mercy of irrational minds. This morning I will learn my fate. They will pardon me or I will serve 30 days in jail for no crime. My dignity wounded, I will lose my internship, my classwork, my potential employment, yet I will not fall prey to solve the unknowing nor reconcile it to reason, I am allowing the change to change me in its injustice. For my spirit remains indomitable and the small-minded who seek satisfaction shall return empty hearted.
A small duplicitous mind can write irreconcilable truths. This is the distorted shadow of corrupted love from the sick mind:
“…I will never abnegate our life together… I will never not love you. The love I hold for you is real and I know love never ends.”
“The respondent should be found in willful contempt for not paying his court ordered obligations and in addition to any other penalties imposed by this court after finding him in contempt, he should be given a jail sentence…”
These messages were just a month apart, but illustrate the contradictions of past abuses with its insipid appetite for control. I was exiled the moment my son and I left a hostile home. I was sentenced in my audacity to say, ‘’no.”
This is the very worst of her brand of “love.” There is nothing left to take from me, so please hear me, my dear reader, as I declare to you here that this case is closed. The record is being sealed and I have become fertile again. I have processed the violence set against me by a bitter borderline and I have experienced a shift. I no longer need to invest my spirit into this exegesis of soul. The relic has been discovered and it is in the process of being revealed, a fresh spirit of Eros finding its way to me through my creativity, my family, my friends, my sages and doyennes who have taught me, revealed to me, the guiding principle of refined love that sets a soul free. They have shown me things about myself that I did not know I should love.
Now I am a river flowing, renewing my banks with fertile soil, for I have been set free to disturb these recollections. My intention for my potential possesses no certain expectation of an outcome. I have experienced this dark passage A Priori and I have already seen myself emerge from it.
I am now living the rich ambiguity of letting go.
“Something in you dies when you bear the unbearable. And it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees and to love as God loves.” —Ram Dass
The passionate Phoenix of Firefly Horizons and conceptual prognosticator of Mutatis Mutandis reborn through the scorching forge of his annihilation into creative sanctuary. Steve translates the fury of his Phoenix experience into experiential exegesis in search of perspectives not yet in view. Read more about Steve • Articles by Steve