Jagged Road

By Deborah

I like where I am. I like who I am, hanging on this wall by a shred of sticky tape. I'm messy, I'm flailing in different directions. I'm certainly not pretty. But I'm interesting. I'm colorful. I've got arms and legs and strands of stuff hanging every which way, and I am liking the way I look right now, given who I am, messy, a bit frantic. Later some other time I may not like who I am. I may dislike the messiness, chafe at the need to turn myself, the doll, around so I can be seen from both sides. I may resent the assumption that I need to look chaotic in order to feel free. For freedom, true psychic freedom, I think has never been my strong suit. I've always, I think, felt confined. So this blatant neediness for, maybe we're going to get into this, this morning, a magic carpet can carry me through the life belief.

So the blatant neediness for patterns emerging over the weeks of pulling them together on the magic carpet. Walking the path of each weeks art work not going too deeply into negative or positive, positive or negative, the polarities take me into the other side. No good or bad in any of it.

It's a jagged road, I am not quite sure where I am headed, where I am going. Some legs of the journey feel certain and powered. Then sometimes I feel absolutely clueless, directionless, unmotivated. Fortunately even those paths between certain places, even if I feel certainly awful or certainly brighter at least they feel shorter these days maybe a more direct route than they used to. But, I add, even though short paths seem very, very dark sometimes, maybe even darker than they have in the past because I know where I am trying to get is very bright, very certain.

The final magic carpet. I can see I brought elements of the journey into the separate steps. Uncertainty, the responsibility to accept the outward demonstration even if it may feel not absolutely ...