All The Pretty Horses

On October 3, 2020January 24, 2022 By Just StephIn Metaphysical MussingsLeave a comment

When I was little I used to go to the fair or a carnival and feel so bad for the merry-go-round horses.

It was so sad! They had a pole through their bodies and never got to go anywhere except around and around foever.

Some nights after visiting the fair I would dream that I was a merry-go-round girl; that there was a pole bolted into the carousel platform keeping me from being free and that I was doomed to forever travel in the same circle, doing the same thing over and over again for eternity.

But most of the time I dreamed that I could set the carousel horses loose.

I used to imagine that when the carnival would close for the night i would be able to say the magic words that would allow those brightly colored carousel horses to shake the paint flakes out of their manes, throw off the bolts and poles that kept them tethered and finally be able to run free into the night.

Some nights I even dreamed about it; whisperimg words into painted ears, then watching as their flat painted eyes would blink in the moonlight and become real eyes; eyes full of life and energy and then watching the transformation of garish painted wooden horse bodies into real, breathing creatures galloping through the night.

I used to love that dream.

As I got older the dream of the carousel horses faded away until it was just a memory. Until one night, not that long ago, it came to me again. Only this time it had a nightmarish quality.

At first it wasnt so bad. I was a child again, awed by the fantastic beauty of the painted carousel horses. As before I whispered the magic words, but this time the horses didn’t break free.

This time the painted wooden horses remained stationary and lifeless. I went from one to another, crying and begging “Wake up! Please wake up!” And I could feel that they had life inside them, but that there was something keeping them from becoming the gloriously free horses that I knew they were inside.

And then the horses began to change. They were turning real like before, but this time they remained pinned to the platform; bolts piercing their hooves. This time they were writhing as they revolved on the ever turning carousel platform, warm bodies skewered by the poles that held them stationary, and there was nothing I could do to free them.

In fact, my magic words had made things worse. They had woken the horses up, but I could not set them free.

They had to set themselves free.

The magic words could wake them up, make them realize that they were indeed living horses and not wooden carnival attractions, but they had to choose to free themselves from the tethers that kept them pinioned to this ever revolving fun house.

I woke up crying.

You see, we are not so very different than those carnival horses. We are born with the potential, with the ability to become those glorious creatures, our imaginations and creativity running free and creating a reality beyond our wildest dreams.

Instead we become tethered, pinnioned, bolted to the ever turning floor of societal religious and familial expectations. Stand still. Sit straight. Smile. Speak when you are spoken to. Time to go to school. Time to get a job, get married, get a house, have children and start the cycle all over again, nailing the baby carousel horses feet firmly to the platform for their own good.

How rare is it that we see a carousel horse break free of its restraints? How often have you seen those painted wooden horses shake the paint flakes out of their manes and run free into the night?

There are no magic words that can set them free. Perhaps there are words that can make them realize who they are deep inside, under the wooden saddles and the layers of paint and varnish. But those glorious carousel horses have to be the ones to shake off the paint flakes, shrug out of their restraints and head off into the moonlit night of freedom and possibility.

~JustSteph

All Beginnings Are Hard

On January 5, 2014 By Just StephIn Authentic Living Series, My OdysseyLeave a comment

“All Beginnings are hard. . . . Especially a beginning that you make for yourself. That’s the hardest beginning of all.” ~Chiam Potok

It is not unusual at this time of the year to see dozens of posts touting an individual’s New Year’s Resolutions; posts about losing weight, finding love, getting their dream job. The list is endless. And while I know plenty of people who scoff at the idea; people who say that making New Year’s Resolutions is pointless and meaningless, the concept behind it is really quite lovely; you are promising yourself a new beginning; choosing the turning of the New Year as a convenient marking point for tracking their progress.

The sad part of course is that most people renege on their promise to themselves fairly quickly. In fact, the same people who will move heaven and earth to keep a promise to a spouse or a child; a parent, an employer or a friend will dismiss their promise to themselves with no more than a shrug and an amused chuckle.

Do we really have so little respect for ourselves that we can shrug away our chance to finally create the life we have always imagined? Because when we fail to keep our promises to ourselves that is exactly what we are doing. We are trading in those things we desire most in the whole world in exchange for convenience, or security or acceptance by those who don’t understand what achieving our goals would mean for our authentic selves.

I have no room to judge the person who gives in to those around them; who gives in to the demands of convention or of society and gives up their dream, for I am guilty of the same thing. In fact, I am more guilty than most. I gave up my dream. I gave up my dreams willingly in the hopes that by doing so I could forget who I was; that I could bury my true self in normality and create a life for myself where I would not only not be hurt any more, but one where I would no longer hurt anyone else.

For a few precious years it seemed to work. I was happy, or at the very least I was content. But it didn’t last.

It was inevitable that one day I would wake up to the fact that burying my authentic self was the biggest mistake that I ever made.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret the life I lived; it gave me two beautiful daughters and hundreds of lovely memories that I will cherish forever. What I do regret is that I gave up my true self for the illusion of security and belonging.

It has taken me a quarter of a century to come around to acknowledging my mistake and in taking steps to rectify it; to unearth the true me that has been buried for so very long. Unfortunately she has been kept under wraps for so long that no one recognizes her. Well, no one except those who knew me before I buried her alive. Her resurrection has resulted in any number of problems as I try to explain to those around me that this is who I am. That the person they thought I was all this time was nothing more than a façade; a mask worn to prevent those around me from see who and what I truly am; a choice I made because I was afraid of hurting or being hurt ever again.

Some have supported me in this excavation. Others have fought it at every turn, trying their hardest to convince me that going back to the self they always knew is in everyone’s best interest; especially their own since that person was the one they were comfortable with. But going back to the person I was pretending to be is something I will not do. And if becoming myself means turning their world upside down, well then, so be it. I have kept myself buried for far too long. It is time.

And so it is that I make my own New Year’s Resolution. This year I make a new beginning for myself – for my true self. I will take the steps necessary to free myself from those people and situations that would keep me from being who and what I truly am.

Of course this means that there will be some tough decisions to be made over the next 12 months; some very difficult choices and overall upheaval for myself and those closest to me. But like childbirth, once the process has begun, there really is no turning back. I have made myself the promise of a new beginning, and it is a promise that I intend to keep.

The Bluebird of Happiness

On November 23, 2011March 1, 2012 By Just StephIn Metaphysical MussingsLeave a comment

Dragons will wander about the waste places, and the phoenix will soar from her nest of fire into the air. We shall lay our hands upon the Basilisk, and see the jewel in the toad’s head. Champing his gilded oats, the hippogriff will stand in our stalls, and over our heads will float the bluebird, singing of beautiful and impossible things, of things that are lovely and that never happened, of things that are not and that should be.”

~ Oscar Wilde

Dragons – Basilisk’s, hippogriff’s….unicorns…all things of fairy tales; or so we’re told; creatures from our fantasies; creatures that preside over our dreams; creatures that haunt us when we are drifting somewhere in that world that is halfway between waking and sleep.

But dreams are just that, aren’t they? Just dreams? Or are they, in the immortal words of Walt Disney “A wish your heart makes when it’s fast asleep?”

And perhaps that is the problem. Perhaps that is why the deepest most desperate desires of our heart remain just beautiful and impossible things – things that are lovely and that never happened – things that are not and that should be.

Perhaps they only reason that these beautiful and impossible things have not become a part of our reality is because we don’t listen to what our heart is telling us.

We refuse to act when our heart urges us to take action.

We hush our heart when it presents us with desires; with hopes and dreams that do not fit the life that we have crafted for ourselves. We smile at them wistfully; smile and tuck them away, far away where they will not intrude on the reality of our everyday lives, and in denying them we may ensure that our lives remain steadfast and constant; predictable and manageable, but in denying them we also deny the very essence of who it is that we are.

And those things that we dream of deep in the dark and secret places of our heart remain forever a mystery, a pretty dream, too good to be true, too beautiful to be possible, and so we go forever wondering just what might have been, and whether or not the bluebird’s singing is not just a pretty distraction, but instead a message straight from our souls; a message for us to open our eyes; to open our minds; to open our hearts before it is forever too late.

And perhaps we have the power to do just that; to acknowledge the bluebird and to open our eyes to the possibilities that lie all around us – and especially those things that lie buried in our hearts and minds and souls; bringing them to light at last, and letting them soar free and usher us into a future better than we ever could have imagined.