Lose This Skin.

Admittedly, Eustace was a prig.

But of all of the Narnia characters, he is my favorite. And not simply because he’s allowed me the opportunity to finally use the word “prig” in a post either.

No, of all the characters, Eustace is my favorite because he was transformed. And unlike Edmund, he did so without even the promise of a greater good to come in the process. There was no talk of a future crown or a greater glory for Eustace, but he saw the need, and transformed anyway.

He did so shortly after his old ways had turned him rather abruptly into a dragon.

Assuming you haven’t read the tale (and if not, you really should), Eustace found some dragon’s loot, and in stealing a piece, he in turn became a fire breather himself when he placed it upon his wrist. His new dragon arm was much thicker than the previous boyish version, and as a result the bewitched gold could not be removed. He was stuck. Forevermore to be cursed – and alone – with his new dragon persona. As so often happens in the Narnia tales, Aslan came along and – after a bit of earnest and deserved begging from Eustace – saved him by stripping all the dragon flesh from the boy. But only after first commanding the boy to do so himself several times instead (a task that the boy tries and ultimately fails at, in each and every instance).

eustace

Of all seven of the books in the Narnian Chronicles, this is the singular scene that spoke to me the most. So much so in fact, that several years ago I found myself beginning to pray that I too might have the good pleasure of having my scales removed. You see, I knew that who I was, wasn’t who I was. And I knew that there was something greater within – something more true, more inline with the creation that He envisioned when first He crafted me. Of course, much like the book, I imagined that there would be a moment of pain, a tear of the flesh causing a tear to the eye, and then I would be provided with great big (((Jesus hugs))) before bounding merrily upon my new and improved way.

None of that happened though.

What did happen was this. First I buried my father. And then my brother’s marriage. And then I heard that I would have to do the same with my marriage as well. And then the children, The Little Things, who were in our protection had to be removed from my care as a result. And then I lost daily contact with my own children, as they stayed with their mother while I moved out. And then (and this is no small matter to people who care) my cat died. And then, in early December, I found myself restructured rather abruptly (the 3rd, at 11:02 AM, to be precise) into the world of unemployment. And finally, that resulted in me losing my car, my family health insurance coverage and my financial security. Never mind any falsetto self-worth I had foolishly built up along the way based upon these superficial achievements.  And that is where I am now.

And it dawns on me… All the scales have been removed.

All the dragon flesh has been stripped from me. I am raw, in tears, naked and pink. I received what I prayed for, I just never realized the immensity of what it was that I wished. I am sore, and scared, and at times feeling (though I know it’s not true) terribly alone. And although there have oft been times when I simply felt the urge to go to Sleep, I am filled with the promise of a wholly new being emerging. One who will be loved by those who love without condition or expectation. Finally, and for the first time in 44 years, a “me” that is one of my own making instead of others begs to come forth. A “me” that will hopefully come closer to fulfilling the beauty of the creation that He envisioned when first He crafted me.

Who Am I?

I’ve no idea.

But just between you, me and all these discarded, hard shorn and useless scales, I simply can not wait to finally find out.

•••

This post was created in response to my Life as it stands, and to the prompt provided us by the beautiful people over at The Blogging Lounge.

Chances…

This post will most likely suck. I apologize in advance.

I’m sitting here in my favorite skirt, struggling. Not with the skirt of course, but with the subject matter for this week’s Twisted Mix-Tape Tuesday.

You see, today we are to sing The Song Spiritual, but the last two years have left me feeling anything but. I have seen the death of family, the death of friends, the death of beliefs, the death of dreams, the death of love and the death of a life I had struggled to build for seventeen years.

And then again, there’s that damned skirt. Sitting right in front of me, wrapped securely round me. That one stupid piece of fabric that reminds me too, of a life new. Of new beginnings and discoveries. Of the chance to finally be the person that I was always supposed to be – the person I’ve always been too fear-filled to be.

What does all this have to do with spirituality? Nothing I suppose. And everything. It’s a topic I could literally spend hours on, as it’s the only one that I think matters at the end. All love, desire and need grows from it. And no matter the God or not that you attribute it to, it resides in all of us. It IS us, as we are it.

“So then what songs make the queue, t?” Again, I’m struggling. They all should. Music is the language of the angels – it’s how we speak to the Spirit. Whether we scream or coo, raise our fist or gently caress, music is how we converse with the Divine. As such, and just for today, I will dig very deep and I will try to show you my spirit in song. The spirit of who I thought I was, who I wanted to be…

The spirit of whom I struggle with being right now…

And the spirit of whom I hope I might someday still be.

•••

mixtape-jenkehl1-300x300

Again, I apologize for the high probability of this post sucking, and as I see that I’ve left you all in a slump of sorts, all mopey-eyed and possibly-despondent, I will provide you with this for your bonus track. It’s the me that sometimes exists, after I’ve walked my Pride & Joys back to their mother’s for the night, and I’m left to my own dancing devices, alone again with only that damned piece of fabric wrapped round my waist, and my personal conversation to be had with the Divine…

Somewhere.

One walks free. Another runs – either from or to. And a third is locked rigid, never to walk nor run from where they are, right now, forever.

Here are the 100 Friday Fictioneer words that came to mind when the picture was fully taken in; a draft originally slated for my other, “woe is me,” blog that never saw the light of day. Not until now.

I hope you enjoy.

copyright-renee-heath

Copyright -Renee Heath

the thing that ran away, the thing that you don’t want anymore, the thing that is gone…

is it ok to still weep at its passing?

the thing that is to be, the thing that you desire so badly, the thing that is *just* ‘round that corner…

is it ok to sob over its delay in coming?

the thing that is, the thing that weighs heavily upon you right now, the thing that relentlessly encases you…

is it ok to lament that it’s neither the former nor the latter, but rather just a painful, albeit hoped-filled, bridge between the two?

•••

A special thanks to my dear sister and friend Renee for this weeks photo prompt. I’d tell you to go and check out her site, but I am certain that all of you already do…

Mirrors (3rd & final attempt)

Listen. I have to tell you that this was a very hard one to write, and it ultimately took me three attempts and a missed due date, in order to record something “post-able” to the general public.

The third volley is the one shown below, but you can find both the first and the second attempts right here.

A caveat: While I feel very confident about the readability of these earlier efforts, they could be taken much more as personal than mere fiction. And, since there are those who would do ill with these words, had they the access, I do have this other post password protected. Simply email me (troypea@ymail.com) with your blog address in the subject line however, and I’ll be glad to get you in. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy all three…

Copyright - Douglas M. MacIlroy

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

From the other side of the mirror, he turned away. Expunging any tears remaining, he donned his wings just prior to taking Flight.

A flight delayed because he’d felt somehow obligated to “go down with the ship,” dismissing the idea only when he realized, the damned thing had no reason to sink in the first. No, it was being actively drowned, through an angered force of will emanating from the opposing side of said-same mirror.

Looking once more at the demise being created there, he heard the vast horizon of Rebirth once again calling to him, and finally he flew.

•••

This has been yet another 100 Word Song and Friday Fictioneers mash-up, and the song was chosen by Deana: “Mirrors,” by my future husband, Justin Timberlake.

PS: Best of luck to all my Bloggin’ Tribe having fun at BlogHer ’13! I hope to see you all at next years shindig, so save me a shrimp or two, would ya?