My shadow says hi

*Disclaimer* I am a poet before I am a writer. And although those two things seem synonymous I don't believe they are. These posts will very rarely be in a blog-style format. But something more poetic where I can sprinkle metaphors onto the equinox of my words.

Sometimes I get seasick from assessing all the waves in my life. From high tide to low tide, where where my ocean settle? What coast? What gulf? Or will I finally leave this planet in search of another galaxy?

I wish outside validation didn't matter to me as much as it did. I just want to make someone proud. Or maybe that is my pride projecting. "Make them proud so I don't seem so haughty".

And I think about my ancestors a lot. If no one else is going to be proud of all the fires I put out, then I know they will. I know they smile knowing I am the one to break this generational curse. But man, it'd be nice if I wasn't. Have you ever been cursed and then tried to get rid of it? Even a pimple curse can scar you for decades quite literally.

So, I ask for guidance often. How can I turn my denial of this "gift" into something fruitful. Because right now, It just feels like I'm climbing this never-ending ladder someplace dark and cold. And if I had to climb this ladder, I wish I got the chance between dark and cold and not have both sprung on me. I would have preferred the dark instead of the icy chill down my spine. In the dark, I feel safe. My shadows can play with me and I don't feel like I need to go toward the light.

But in the day light, my shadow self taps me on my shoulder and I shoo it away. "Don't you know they don't want to see you in the light" I say. And a waterfall of ghostly approval showers over me. Ghostly, because "they" don't exist. "They" is me. And I'm afraid of letting my shadow exist in the sun sometimes. I feel I am more my shadow than my flesh at times and to be vulnerable to that extent is worrisome.

But then my ancestors tap on my other shoulder. They tell me to look at all the flowers around me. "Yes, it is a beautiful area" I say "I love the tulips." They scoff. I know now they don't give two cares about the tulips.

"Look at how they bloom, child. Look at the shadow they cast. Look, at how beautiful they are once they bloom, child. Think of all the bugs that tried to tear it down, all the water that was too heavy, and the soil too dry. But look at how it blooms."

I apologize to my shadow and embrace it with a hug. The only way to make others proud of me, is to embrace myself. Because in my authentic nature, my true form, I am the café with all the good donuts and wonderful coffee. People can turn to me for a mid-day pick me up, a hideaway from home or school, a change of scenery. I can be the light to other's shadows. But only when I can hold hands and cuddle with mine.

So, here I am forgetting to pick up my prescription for the fifth time this week because my brain enjoys doing things last minute. But the one thing I can't afford to do last minute is let my ego bathe in my pride. Two things can exist at once. The pride and the humility. The shadow and the light.