calling care

“My heroes had the heart, to live their lives out on a limb

And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them

Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun

And it’s no coincidence I’ve come and I can die when I’m done 

But maybe I’m crazy, Maybe you’re crazy, Maybe we’re crazy 

Probably”

                                                                                      —  Gnarls Barkley


I see crazy people. The crazy beauty of vulnerability buried beneath the aggressive challenge of bad-ass, hidden behind eyes cast downward in defeat, shrouded by the illusion of perfectionist control…thinking….I’ll finally be ok when…. The pull…attraction …desire to be known, really known, inside out known, good, bad, ugly known, overshadowed by the risk, pain, uncertainty, rawness of being known.

I feel the crazy grip of terror when spoken through a waterfall of tears as deeply mired beliefs of unlovable, not enough, irrevocably damaged bubble to the surface. The crazy hopelessness that EVERYONE ELSE has been given the Tiffany key… the golden ticket….the secret decoder ring with the answers to this thing…..called… life.

I honor the crazy courage to admit “I fucking don’t know, I fucking don’t care, I fucking don’t want to live……….another day, with the shame, the pain, knowing, hating, battling the thought “nothing….. will……. ever……. change.“ Destined, doomed, fate, karma, bad luck, life sucks and then you die.

I kindle the small, crazy spark of hope, the shaky voice that whispers “maybe,” the Little Engine That Could……of bigger, bolder, brighter times. The tentative moment of success when you just…let…go and ride with no hands. Dance, body and mind in sync with the beat, the life force, universal language of Carlos Santana. Whole, complete, beautifully free in abandon. Falling and rising despite a sense of being broken, judged, unmoored, fragile.

We meander this crazy messy, crooked journey. A precarious balance of your shit, my shit. Uncovering the power in A.N.D. An inclusion of pain AND joy, tears AND laughter, doubt AND acceptance. The recognition that our vulnerable underbelly, those parts we hide in shame, in fear, in anger, are the very things that connect us.

An unfurling of the value, worth, the personal gold that can be unearthed only through crazy, awful, hurtful, vulnerable struggles. The amazing, crazy, wisdom found in appreciation and acceptance, that tenderly whispers, I think, I know, I CAN.

I……AM………………ENOUGH.

calling card 2