My Daily Stream of Consciousness

... but not daily or necessarily true


Published at 22 May 2018 10:56 AM EDT in 'General'

Piece by piece and part by part
how do you ever know how to start?

Do you slowly move your way around the periphery to add stability before you create the center?
Or do you dive in grab a piece and continue to move and grow and create from there?

The story seems so complicated and hard to nail down. Was the beginning at birth or was it the moment that I knew that I was alive, that I had a choice, and that I was in control. It feels like childhood molds you into a person, but that you are not really a person during it. You are a sponge collecting all the information that is coming in, holding it, keeping it ready for when you are released into the freedom of choice,
into the dangers of choice,
into the exhilaration of choice,
into the anxiety of choice,
into the moment of choice that begins the rest of your life.

It is a moment of confusion wrapped up in the excitement of starting and the terror of moving forward.

I am not sure you can identify that moment until you reach the end. The end of days that allows enough perspective to know that the moment you left home, was not even close to the moment when you became an person. Sure it seemed big at the time, but did you really leave the shield of your parents? No, it was only a large circumference to the shield they created, a safe zone where you can begin to spread your wings. No that is not the true moment. The moment that defines your life, that begins your individual person, is the moment that you turn away, and leave the road of expectation, the one that is defined and venture into the unknown.

Into the space you must discover
bit by bit,
moment by moment,
piece by piece,
part by part.

It was in the ashes of my childhood that I began to discover who I was. As I watched it burn I had no idea what was going to happen, but I knew that there was no staying or coming back. Everything that I had known as truth was over. As I felt the heat of the flames caress my face I willed myself to remember this moment. To hold the pain and grief close to my heart, for that was, I thought, what would carry me forward. How little I knew then, how much more I had to learn ...

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Christine Morton -

A mother, a daughter, a magic bean grower,
a hoper, a lover, a dandelion blower.
A dreamer, a wisher, a photograph maker,
a writer, a hoper, a lesser road taker.

© 2016 Christine Morton Redhead Snaps