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Going into the Closet

From my chair to yours…

I bet that this title created a few scenarios for you. It seems to offer a private door into my life. Alas, I am an open book and have nothing new to report except what goes on in my realm of imagination. Now that is always juicy, out of the norm (whatever that may mean), and seeding my garden of creativity.

There are still a lot of things that I haven’t shared with too many people. Parts of my story that I have whispered to lovers, certain confidants I trusted and vice versa but, not all my deeper secrets. They will remain in a special closet within me, watched over by my crew of spiritual guardians.

Some of my secrets take time to understand and come to terms with? Don’t they? As I write this, I feel my writing could go in many directions, secrets yet unfolding.

I was in a Zoom writing workshop a few nights ago, and the theme was about grandmothers. In listening to these creative, brave women read their fresh stories began a memory of one of my grandmothers. Times spent with her during long summers. I realized during the hours after the workshop that I need to refresh my perspective and deepen my understanding of forgiveness.

For me, this is best done by walking.

What the others read was all magical and impressed upon me the different circumstances we all grow up in. Hearing these women speak about their relationships with grandmothers through their writing was amazing. The stories/poetry/writing were raw, unedited and emotional.

This is mine, unedited and just scratching the surface of my emotional memory.

“Oh, you were a charmer. Your smile would light up a room, but your Nordic Iciness could freeze someone in a second.”
”I remember when I stayed with you how long those summers could be.”” Me and the cats that lounged all over the kitchen countertops. Washing themselves in the warmth of the summer sun was a treat to watch.”
”You loved your cats and feeding them was one of your pleasures.”
”Did you ever feel that pleasure when I was with you?”
”You despised my father, and I felt that hatred every time you looked at me.”
”You hurt this tender child, your only grandchild.”
”I was not my father, but you molded me into him through your eyes”.
”So my journey through the forest began.”
”For this I thank you Nana.”

I think of the forest also like a closet. I quickly open up the door, throw some stuff into and, shut it. I have been opening up the closet door wider, more often finding relics of richness, while some have developed a mustiness from a lack of attention. It takes time to clean out the closet and step out through the door, notice that it’s not as cluttered as it once was. Yes, it’s still filled with things, some used and worn, but now there is room for the new among those I treasure.

What did you do in the Closet?

How would I have known that you were so shy, and it wasn’t shyness that kept you away?

How would I have known that you did your best work, thought your deepest thoughts, and lived your best life when you were alone in the closet?

I never gave much thought to what it meant to be in the closet.

And the courage to come out of the closet.

Wherever that door opens to.

What a feeling it must be to spend time tucked away, hidden away. Perhaps, feeling shame is enough to hide oneself. That would be a good reason, and I would join you for that cause alone.

Or maybe it was just not wanting to enter the insanity of the outside world.

Contemplating about the many reasons to be in the closet and how subtle and brilliant the closet can be.

I can only grasp the enormous effort it takes to turn the knob and take the first step out. I salute you. I congratulate you, and I see you.

I feel it’s a good idea for me to go into the closet, into the darkness with whatever answers and mysteries my closet has waiting. Spend some time to engage in my wild, imaginative notions. Wherever they take me.

To reunite with my sensory self. The smell as I reach for the things that surround me. Feel the tickle of clothes across my face. Touching fabrics is different in the dark. More sensual, almost erotic. My eyes finally developing the ability to see in the closet but more from touch, a different type of sight. Getting familiar with my skin again. And opening to truths that lie within me, waiting to be delivered. Discovering odors of my body’s un-masked aroma, original, organic perfume.

Let me end by saying, thank you for sharing with me about what you did in the closet. I will keep your confidence.
Please keep mine.

Have a week of found treasures!

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