There is a uniquely eclectic perfection beginning to light up my world.

There were dark spaces for a while—in and out of them as we ventured from point A to C, back to B, over to J, down to Z, back up to A… you probably get the idea.

It’s not completely lit, but something is beginning to light the way and lead us from this bizarre land, where it is all G’s and O’s and a lot of Q’s and X’s.

Still, we go hand-in-hand, and not always with grace or ease, but we have not let go. We refuse to let go. And we are stronger together. Pick up every piece. Keep going. 

And what fascinating pieces I have found—some pale and dull and gray, disguised as nothing among a million other nothings, yet resonating with such an energy, I know it to be mine, not unlike Horton’s dandelion lost in the epic field of flowers. Other pieces sparkle and shimmer with cartoonish Hollywood starlight, but reside deep underground, or high up in funny trees, or need to be perfectly cut and chiseled out of something, like Eddie Dean’s prophetic wooden key.

“Where have you been?” each asks in turn.

Oh, here and there, is my answer. We move on, heavier, greater, harder, but better for it. Keep going.

 We pass some places that remind me of old gifts of love. It tugs at my heartstrings, or sometimes it’s more of a yank that sends me hurling to the ground. I look at those around me and see who is hurt the worst. We mend. We talk. We dust one another off and get back up again. Do it every time. 

There are remnants of the things I battled in the past, and I shake my head. They were such a challenge back then.

Now, there is so much of me.

I do call on the others to lead the way at times, especially when I start to lose my sense of direction. They use something unique, or something like an uncommon sense, to lead us away from ensnarement or sticky situations. I can often see them coming, but hard is steering away. I suppose I am rather susceptible to traps.

There is a deep sigh of relief each time we go from “Oh!” to, “Kay!” “Crisis” averted. On to the next thing.

I think I am starting to truly forgive myself for getting so badly lost in the first place. It would not have happened if I had drawn on the stronger aspects of myself, and not sacrificed them.

A to B looks so simple with letters like H-I-N-D-S-I-G-H-T written across the map. Such is the journey.

Though some are weary and sarcastic about it, most of the other selves have forgiven me as well, and they readily agree to move on in spite of the challenges I have posed for them. We have grown to know and enjoy one another. The quirks that seemed too odd now sit well. But we gotta do more to keep the fires burning long at night. Keep going.

The closer we get to the Whole Self, the brighter that light. “Where are we going?” I shrug. The map has been pretty useless for a while now, which is why I pull my directions like square Scrabble letters from a black velvet string bag. Now where did I get these?

Today, we laugh and smile, fatigued by full bellies and good times, as we march forward on the zig-zag path, our zellow brick road. “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” in place of, “Are we who, when?”

How the fuck should I know? Will a big red X pop up on this map? Will we see the Emerald City gleaming in the distance? They laugh.

“A ship,” someone says. I consider this, and agree. We’re getting outta here. But how? Who? One-eyed, peg-legged Cap’n Randy? Good luck with your scurvy, Scallywags! They laugh again, but how far from the truth will this really be?

Soon we will prepare to disembark, or embark, when we reach the end of this zig-zaggy road led by a deceiving, dyslexic map. We may need to locate someone (a sacrifice, or something new) that can facilitate the passage. The word navigation is heavy on my mind. There are more pieces to find—parts to better the selves that make up the Whole—and we ungrudgingly go along together. But that next place, the who, the when—

I guess it will spell itself out when we get there.

_{April 3rd, 2024}

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