Attempts to communicate with the Universe. Lettres à l’Univers et autres destinataires.

There’s been so much to say, or somehow so little, that it’s been very hard to regroup my different thoughts and write a comprehensive letter to the universe lately. It’s been more like little notes, shooting up here and there. Sometimes like post-its (Get your hair cut short so your hair can’t rule over your life anymore), sometimes like post-scriptums (Wow, a year ago today, my heart was actually broken into small pieces, but I only just realized it. Happy break-up anniversary to me).

The truth is, cutting my hair and admitting to the heartbreak are just two of the little things I’ve been doing to make up with myself. I tried making out with others, but disliked it immensely, to my astonishment. (NB : I used to love making out. Well, I don’t anymore. There’s a before and an after. Just like in movies. In biographies. Interesting. I’m seeing the curves slowly shaping out on my imaginary book. She was loved but couldn’t love. She thought she loved and it turned her to a crappy pile of mush. But in between those two dramatic high points, she became a mom, skitted on chaos and turned into a shining star). I landed a few writing jobs, spent most of my time alone, watched a lot of tv shows, a lot of movies, getting inspired by other people’s work, achievements, fictitious lives. The great thing about fiction is that you can turn it off, or tune out, or remember it’s not life, at any given time.

Reconciliation is hard. First, it’s about figuring out you’re angry. Or sad. Or both. Then, it’s about figuring out what happened, and how it happened, and how you let it happen, and how it’s changed you. And once you’ve been through all that, it’s about being ok with it. Letting it slide. Accepting it. Finding the humor in it. Relativity. I’m lucky I have this incredible child to be a parent to. It makes a huge difference. It gives me perspective. And makes me laugh. And brings me a sense of time and achievement on a daily basis. It also helps keep my spine vibrant and tall. I mean, my kid adds huge suns and pretty flowers on ALL her drawings. I must be doing SOMETHING right.

So reconciliation is hard, but once you figure out that there was an inner conflict to begin with, it’s just about rolling with it until the knots are all untangled and there’s all these little threads floating in the air, ready to be weaved into something that makes sense, again.

I’ve got a lot of little threads floating. I think I’m ready to pull out the superglu and get to work. Gracefully. Or not. It’s ok, whatever I do with them, they’ll make a pretty picture, even if I don’t see it clearly in my mind just yet.

Over and out, and back in, and on top of things.

Mad Love out to the Universe,
MN