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| (Image from American Travel Center) |
North Toward The Ways Of The Earth
You have asked me how, how can
I just up and leave like this without
knowing precisely why—or, for that
matter, how or where—I am going?
I understand the concern behind
your question and will answer you
as best as I can, with all of my skills
for the metaphor at my disposal.
Being here does not bring me joy.
I am not being fully who I am. For,
I simply cannot be who I am, where
I am. And this can no longer be!
I have chosen to listen to what
I am supposed to be in this life,
for far too long, and have lived
a 'non-life' because of my choice.
And, yet, this detour was a necessary
step in the journey to who I am.
This choice was a mistake—but
it was the correct mistake.
And this choice was also painful.
I have felt totally inadequate and
unworthy—as the person I am—
for as long as I can remember.
So, I chose to not be myself and
to be what others chose for me to be;
I chose to not do what I desired, but
to do what others desired of me.
Because of this, I have experienced
a constant fear of not being acceptable
enough, of not being lovable enough,
of—quite simply—not being enough.
When the pain became unbearable,
I chose differently. I chose to face my
fears head on. Thus, I chose to surrender
to my fear and finally won that conflict.
And, with every surrender, I experienced
a little death—and then I experienced a
little birth! For, my fear had died and my
joy was born. So, here I am yet again...
...Once more, I am choosing to go with
my soul and, therefore, to leave my fear
behind kicking and screaming demanding
to have its way—determined to be heard!
But I will not heed its cries. I have
listened too much, too often and for
too long—and have known only grief
from caving in to the demands of fear.
Fear is—in fact—a cave! It is dark and
cold and damp. It promises safety, but
you cannot see where you're going—
then you trip—and fall deeper into it.
Thus, I am here making this choice
while the voices of fear are crying out,
“What will you do?” “Where will
you go?” “How will you survive?”
Sometimes, these voices come from
others—and sometimes they come from
myself—but still they come! And, still,
I will not let them all the way in...
For, all I have to go on is the pull of my
soul north, toward the ways of the Earth.
She is The Goddess and I totally trust Her!
And I must go so that I can be closer to Her...
-Paul Whiting
(a.k.a., Small All White in the Forest)
"I am no barrier to its sun; the light and I are as one!"
My Poetic Notes:
The reason that I wrote this poem can be summed up with the following statement: I wrote this poem in preparation for telling my family why I was moving to Portland, Oregon!
You see, I was living at my parent's house, at the age of thirty two (which means that it was the year 1999), and doing odd jobs for them around the house in order to make money, since I could not find a fulfilling job in Utah. And, although I had no job lined up, my plan was to live in Portland (with a friend from Salt Lake City who had moved there also) and get a temporary job until I could find a permanent job.
And I wrote this poem (along with another poem that I wrote titled, "An Instrument Of Peace," which is published on this blog) in anticipation of my family asking me why I was planning to move; that's why the first stanza of this poem reads: "You have asked me how, how can I just up and leave like this without knowing precisely why—or, for that matter, how or where—I am going?"
So, I invited my family over for dinner at my parent's house to tell them that I was moving and the funny thing is that nobody asked me why I was moving!
And this poem was also published on my "Paul Whiting — A Creative Writer" blog (please see the hyperlink below for the blog), since I feel that the message in this poem applies to the message that I am trying to convey through "Paul Whiting — A Creative Writer."
This poem was written in Salt Lake City, Utah.
-Paulee
https://paulwhitingwriting.blogspot.com
This "Small All White in the Forest" Post No. 046 was edited on November 5th, 2023.
"Poetry is using the fewest words possible in order to describe all that is possible to describe." –Paul Whiting [June 1st, 2022]
