The Process

The Process
By Z Zoccolante

There’s a process. Let’s not make it about love, but instead a human life experience, one which has all the fullness of a perfectly ripe peach, plump and juicy, full of joy and sorrows, elation and bliss, lost and found. Let’s not make it this about one thing because it’s about the feeling of everything – about a full life experience.

It’s about saying the names, not just flossing over it with my “ex” husband, my “ex” boyfriend, my “ex” friend. These were time periods of my life too, just as vital as the emotions and the lessons. I am a person too and so are they, not just forgotten memory like the box packed away in the attic. Each was there for a reason – to help me fine tune my vibration – to bring me closer to me. And so is every new he.

And yes, I find myself getting annoyed at the way my heart sinks, gets pricked and hardens and I want to be mean or ignore he completely because it’s easier to step back into shadow, to turn the other way. That was my skill set and I do it well.

But what would it be like to lean into it instead. Who would I be if my defense was not to detach but to run towards the painful thing arms wide, heart exposed. How would everything in my life be different?

This beautiful life of mine that I love, that I’ve created out of ashes when everything shattered like broken glass exploding in my belly and God watered the seeds when I wandered aimlessly along purple flowered sidewalks and lay with my face in the sun longing to unzip my life and step out. I remember that TV show where I cried because for one blissful hour I was free from my mind and the prickly spin.

And I have carved each story like lace against me and when I step back I can admire it now, possible contracts I’ve made before falling to each. I’ll be letting go now . . . as the wind rushes against my skin, hair flying, free, holding the hands of those who are on this particular journey.

And from this vantage point this seem smaller – the pin pricks where light seeps through like a sky full of stars. I can handle the ocean. I can handle being pulled under because what lives in me if fire. The one who guides me parts the seas. The one who protects me writes me words that taste like honey and whispers my name in invisible ink tattoos.

And I am more than this body, than this movie I’m living and the roles I play. I am more than the emotion that spikes and how I curl like a fairy on a mushroom as I tell my feet there is no need to run. You are safe here with me. I know that’s not always been the case but when you trust me now your hands will not slip through ether. I am tethered to you and that feels like peace. That I can promise you.

With Love,

Z :)