“You have to make an alliance with your anguish,” he said, “not wage war against it.” And I thought of all the fists I had shaken at misfortune: games lost because the shot clock ran out, a good meal scorched in a forgotten oven, money dropped on a dress worn only once, the bully in 6th grade, the math test in 9th, the wrong outfit at Halloween. But of course, this isn’t what he meant.
If I were brave enough, I’d tell you how my heart has raged for love, stretched thin as a high wire. If I were brave enough, I’d tell you how my body has been fighting to stay upright on every precipitous downhill the city throws at it. If I were brave enough, I’d climb into your lap and weep with longing. All I can say is that any attempt at beauty and hope is land-mined with failure. And so the perilous track-making begins. Wending our way through, there are possible clutches at sunlight, at windows, at yes. We are each of us inches from death. We are each of us inches from life. We are each of us inches from one another.
I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. When I look behind, as I am compelled to look before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings. Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered! How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses? In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends, those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face. Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me. In my darkest night, when the moon was covered and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: "Live in the layers, not on the litter." Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written. I am not done with my changes.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Aries Horoscope for week of March 6, 2008
Aries (March 21-April 19)
This is Celebrate Your Broken Heart Week, Aries. Even if your heart's not exactly shattered at the moment, it has no doubt been so at sometime in the past. So why celebrate? Because having a broken heart is one of the best things that can happen to you. It strengthens your humility, which makes you smarter. It demonstrates to you that you have a tremendous capacity for deep feelings -- far more than you're normally aware of. It breaks down defense mechanisms that have desensitized you to the world's secret beauty. It should also inspire you to treat other people's hearts with great care, making it more likely you'll be able to create intelligent intimacy in the future. Here's what I conclude: A broken heart is a gift the world gives you to awaken you to the truth about what matters to you most.