Just read this post from a beautiful friend and spectacular spirit. Shook my to my core and expresses too much grace not to share.
This week I’m trying something new. I’m in peace negotiations with Fear. I even gave it a proper name. Meet Esmeralda.
For most of my adult life, Esmeralda has been exiled, banished, not allowed a place at my table. When ignored, she has wreaked havoc; she has banged inside my chest with her dirty little fists, she has been screetchy and snarl toothed and has never once taken a bath. I have disliked her immensely. She knows this.
She’s the one that insisted I not hang by my knees from the monkey bars when I was eight; she hated sleds that sped too fast down steep hills. She wouldn’t let go of the fact that it makes no sense that tin cans with wings should suspend over buildings, or that horses should so easily let you ride on their backs.
She draws pictures of aftermath… unhappy stick figures amidst the…
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