Today is my second birthday, the date I was adopted and brought home by my parents from wherever I was being stored in the meantime.   I am grateful, it is like being born again  before you’re old enough to even know what it really means. I was placed in a stable family and given the best chance of functioning in the world without overextending my more extremist tendencies. It takes a few years to start to realize this.  There’s a backside to it in that some of the more latent gifts of my life, some of the colors and sounds and fabrics swimming around infant eyes got stored away in the slight risk of being reopened years later.  That’s what it’s been, my life, a long time coming. And after finding my birth parents a couple of years ago, when that deep sacred wound throbs with the language of a baby, I guess that I might not have lasted to forty. It’s a guess.   I’ll go into more of what happened later but suffice to say it seems my birth mother hasn’t come to deal withe that monster floating around inside of her, base don her tone of the letter I got from her.  Same with my birth father.  My guess is she didn’t really love him so she turned down his marriage proposal after finding out I was the Cinnabon in the oven.  Maybe she did love him and it frightened her. What I do know is that there’s a lifetime channel open in me for them and while I may never speak to them, I have to keep it pried open because without them and their willingness on some level to endure that pain and mess and slop of losing a child to the world I wouldn’t be here.  See what a mess this is? But life is slop.  And now I have a chance to make it glorious slop, currents and countercurrents whirling together with pieces of the past and future making a soup of the day.  But finding them, I had to walk through that. So I could love more deeply, unify myself, take trapped sediment, drill down into it, set it free and not walk around with one eye squinting inward while this beast of rage and pain swirled around my guts. Cause that’s what is, rage and pain swirling around the guts. Anyone who’s lost anyone especially near birth knows the slick dark road I’m mentioning here.  And after what happened two years ago, it was two years I gave to the process, two years where I walked through it and now, after reaching the end of that road and seeing a casket with my old body and soul in it, I can be born yet again, and live my new life.   There are heartaches and moving little calliopes of drama and trapped love to ride, convert, set free, but now I can feel a little more balanced and grateful to both sets of ‘parents’ who through their actions, have made me what I am.  For me it’s easy to slip into what’s wrong so today I have to say it’s all right.  We bring in selves before we’re even born. That’s no one’s fault, not society’s or parents or George W Bush’s.  It’s a delicate balance between facing that Sacred Darkness without letting it swallow you. And it’s more fun when you have someone with you, especially someone that looks great in lingerie.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Internet and CIA monitoring Internet.

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