There Is No Rescue
'J' [a friend] is right -- he's a facilitator.
No one except me can be the practitioner.
I wrote it a minute ago:
THERE IS NO RESCUE.
I don't want to want rescue, either.
But there is help.
opportunity by association.
It's incumbent on me to make use of all that.
Flight or grounding, coccoon or wings -
that choice will always and only be my own.
If I crave autonomy in the most authentic way,
then I have to do the work myself.
Then and only then do I own the lessons,
and the resultant life,
Saying "yes" is part of that.
Saying "no" is, also.
Oddly, neither is easy or certain.
Some choices are wholly instinct-driven.
This (above) is not the fantasy I want anymore.
Choice based on safety
or externally defined
The cost of rescue is
servitude of some sort
to the rescuer.
Safety is a cage.
Norms don't allow
individuation or growth
for any of those involved.
All of it is like
lacing up concrete shoes
kissing flight goodbye.
It's not my ambition to be a 'lady.'
I strive to be
of the singular sort:
Love me or not,
but retaining my wholeness regardless.
I'm earning that right,
bit by bit,
tiny baby step by tiny baby step,
choice by conscious choice,
walking ahead even with fear in tow.
as it turns out,
can be an awesome catalyst,
It is past the time