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Article Specs

Article ID: 14035

VoxAcct: 359118

Section: words

Age Group: Adult

Days Up: 2,628

Times Read: 2,921

RSS Views: 12,535
A Curse May Truly Be Your Gift

Author: Lady Wolfwind
Posted: August 8th. 2010
Times Viewed: 2,921

It is a glorious morning. I turn my face eastward to feel the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze on my face. I love this time of day. It is when the Goddess speaks the loudest to me. She helps prepare me for my day. I take a closer look at the mist that surrounds me. I can see each individual water droplet that make up the fog and the tiny rainbows created within each tiny sphere. I know that others only see the mist. The stillness is not silent. I hear the squirrels high in the trees scampering about and complaining noisily about the presence of my cats. Little Bit, my familiar, encircles my feet. The chickens are clucking and they are just now beginning to learn to crow. It brings a small laugh from within. Thereís something more. Something else stirring. I need to quiet myself still more. Someone is trying to talk to me, to tell me something.

As I stand and softly gaze at the open fields that surround my house, I feel a presence. Maybe more than one. What is it they need to tell me? How will it affect my day? Iíve come to the conclusion that even if the news that they bring me is sad it is still welcome. The knowledge and understanding that they impart is still magical. I realize that not everyone can hear them; some can but donít want to. Some want to but donít know how. Even with the most patient teaching it takes a sharp mind to learn to feel the undercurrents of energy that flow all around you. Some students just canít grasp it.

On this most beautiful of days I listen. Those who surround me today are friends and family who have passed to the other side. Today they share the news that there is a new member with them. An old friend whom Iíve shared so much joy. A friend who was too young to pass. A friend who had made poor choices in his life and they had cost him dearly. I stand and I listen. He is okay; he is among loved ones. It was his time to move on. I silently let a tear slide down my cheek. Even with the knowledge that he is safe I will still miss his presence here on this earthly plane. Somehow, the world seems a little lonelier.

I check my emotions today. I close off the thoughts and stifle the pain. Today is not a day I can grieve. I have responsibilities and people who rely upon me to be strong. People who trust me not to fall apart, to know when I can have the time to say my goodbyes properly. I gather my strength, lift my head and thank those who have brought me this news.

For a day and a half I carry this news with a heavy heart. I look up and I see their faces, I see them standing off in a distance smiling at me. They think Iíve forgotten. I havenít forgotten. I simply have been too scared to say farewell. It seems that Iíve been surrounded by death all of my life. I started when I was fourteen and I stood beside my motherís hospital bed and watched her take her last breath. It was soon followed by doctors giving me a form to sign to turn off the life support on my aging father, not knowing that while I was signing those papers one of my good friends was being killed in a motorcycle accident. For a day and a half I look around and theyíre all there. Not in a crazy sort of way, but beckoning me to let them go.

For this day and a half I question why so many people Iíve known have passed. What have I done to have to learn this lesson so intimately? For years I didnít get it. Then I asked myself, ďWhat do all of these people have in common?Ē My parents aside, the answer struck me like a ton of bricks. I have learned this lesson because I have been doing what my Goddess has asked me to do. To befriend the less fortunate. To stand up for the underdog. To speak to those people who have lost faith in their selves. My gift, it seems, has been to try to save these people from their own thoughts of despair. When you look into their eyes you can see it. When youíre in their presence you can feel it coming in waves. Some of them are not even aware of why they do the things they do or why they make such poor choices. This is not a gift I wouldíve chosen. I need to break the thought process that this is a curse as I had once thought in my younger mind.

Even in my teen-age years I befriended the ones who were always being picked on for being different. I became their advocate. I didnít have the wisdom and insight that I have now. I didnít know that with kind, guiding words I could change their view of themselves. Sometimes all you need to do is say, ďYou are so beautiful and worthwhile. The world is yours for the taking if you will only believe this.Ē I now know this power, this magic, if you will. The problem now is that I am no longer dealing with a young mind. I now deal with adults whose thought processes have dragged them to depths that will require a choice so radical that most cannot do it. Itís sad that so many are afraid of change. Itís sad that so many are afraid of what others will think and say. Somewhere, somehow, you must make them believe that this is their life to live and it doesnít matter what others think or say. Just live your life to the fullest.

So amid all the pondering it is no wonder I have lost so many, even if not in death. The magic I create is sometimes heartbreaking when I have to watch a person I have given 110% of all of my energy to turn their back and walk away. It hurts deeply when after all of the work they still canít even grasp the tiniest ray of hope within themselves. I have to battle old wounds carefully placed by mothers and fathers, neglect and labels repeated over and over until the person has become what they are told they are. I deal with people who are alcoholics and drug addicts, the unwanted, the unloved, the ones who canít afford to feed themselves and their children. I used to think it was because they were lazy, now I understand that most of them carry scars that are too painful to heal. It is how they deal with life.

So, yes, Iíve lost many. Iíve lost many to suicide and car accidents involving drugs and alcohol. Iíve lost a few to heart attacks, like my most recent friend. He had been a former heroin addict who had been clean for years.

Donít get me wrong. I learn so much from these people. I am not their savior. I am their friend. I donít judge them or belittle them. I donít have them to my house for dinner because I feel sorry for them. I genuinely like these people and I grow to love them. Some are just misguided kids left to find their own way. Itís always been a two way street.

Many people turn away from these people. They consider them losers or obstacles set in their path to success. Itís hard to befriend someone that is alone. People are afraid that they will steal from them or take something even if it is a piece of their heart. Most people think that these people made their bed so they must sleep in it. We have become so uncaring as a society.

So a day and a half later, I again stand in the morningís rays and feel those around me. They know what I am about to do. They are here to thank me for being their friend. They put their hands upon me and let me feel the love they feel for me for believing in them so deeply when no one else would. I look at them all and today it is okay to grieve. Today I will face my fears and let them go. Itís well past time. Yes, the world will be a lonelier place without them, most people will never know because they could never see the beauty in each and every one of them. I know and thatís okay as I let the warm tears stream down my face. As I grow older I realize that this is indeed a gift, even when it hurts. To stand here and feel them surround me, to feel their love and the soul deep thanks is more than I need.

Today, I will take pause. Today, I will honor these people. They too were put here for a purpose, to learn and to touch our lives. I say my goodbye to each of them and allow myself to cry. The silence becomes still once again and I know that they have moved on. Little Bit has lain down beside me, quieted, although he eyes me carefully. I know that he has felt them to. I stoke his fur and he comforts me. Even through the pain I ask myself, ďHow is it that I was chosen to be so blessed?Ē





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