associated in random thought

thoughts on twentyseven as of 6:30 this morning

this morning, the itchiness of a healing tattoo woke me up, and so i put on some coffee. i haven't journaled properly all that much lately, but i've always made it a point to evaluate around birthdays. you know, check in with myself: how are you living? have you grown this year? the proverbial inchmark on the wall to measure my height. here is a bit of what i came up with:

28 October 2005
morning pages.

So. It is my first entry of being 27. I really don’t know where to begin. There are many words to say, many pieces to put together of this season, and I’ll do what I can this morning.

It is only 6:30, and the sky is still dark and starry. It’s cold enough to see my breath and pull up my hood. I am grateful for both. Helen is awake too, thanks to me, watching the news and eating a poptart. Chloe sits outside with me, perched on a chair, and now wandering the porch. And off she goes to explore like the teenager she is. I love that cat.

My birthday was a whirlwind of a day. we went shopping for my party. Cider and pumpkins, flowers and candy, kebab-makings. We loaded up the cart. I had to work (I took 1/2 a day), and when I came home, our home was lit with candles, and ginger and bill were at the door, ready to help with the barbequeing. Friends I never knew would come arrived quickly. Gregg, dee, Joe, joey, Kenny, mamie and Patrick, Patrick, a new friend named Natalie, Barbara, Art, Derek and Brian, Tara, ray. And if I am forgetting anyone, I feel terrible.

This strange group of people laughed and told stories, drank wine and tea, ate chicken and tofu and cake. I got birthday spankings. I got hugs and kisses on the lips from all the beautiful men I’ve befriended. I was in birthday girl heaven, with cellophane covering my new tattoo.

Ah yes, my new tattoo. My lovebird and her ribbon, linking together two hearts like the holy spirit. Three-fold cord. Three blue stars bearing witness. And the whole host of heaven surrounding. It’s Helen and me, and my lodestar girls and everyone I have ever, and will ever love, all dancing on my back.

And my God, it hurt like hell. Three hours of pain like I’ve never known before. But the result? I get to wear this masterpiece until I die. I get to bear witness myself for all my days. And what else is there to joy and faith but that?

Slowly, the old layers are falling away. The ache of missing what I seem to have lost is subsiding. What I have now is just as real and true as what I claimed for myself in Nashville. As a twenty year old girl, I elbowed in to what I knew I wanted for myself: home. Community. Friends that could teach me how to love. A place to grow into myself. And now? Now I am taking my tools and building for myself that place. And I am getting to take everyone outside the door into our home. The neighbors. Ginger. Joey. Julie and Joey Vogel. I am finding my way back to the life I’ve longed for, full of people for which to create sanctuary. At twentyseven, I have stripped off my hair to start over. I have paid for the permanency of the life I want to proclaim. I am more myself, maturing. And slowly, (despite my bitchiness to the crazy neighbor with the evil dog this morning) I am liking more—loving more—who I am. That is grace.

Posted by bananie at October 28, 2005 9:34 AM | TrackBack