I want to think of the many things that go bump in the night, and sometimes seemingly all day long, the BIG-ass bumps, the events that trip me up, cause me to fall and fail, to miss my breath—gasping for air, choking as the freshness enters to catch it again—I prefer to view these undesirable quakes of life through the auspices of hero, or heroine, as is my feminine form. Yes, I prefer this over the whine of victim or the disregard of stoic survivor.

And whose heroic example can I live hardship by?

I like the idea of Robin Hood, Maid Marian, previous times of the round table, mixed with a bit of Buddha. Chivalry, focus, passion with purpose, promises of heart, promises for the good of others, promises that were kept, kept through trust in the god-driven mission, missions driven by the highest forces of Life and Love—these were times of the hero and heroine and hardship dancing side by side.

Playing Hood or Maid suits, gender does not matter. What the Hero(ine) asks is whether I will speak the truth; whether I will live the flame of my heart and that of my will, letting them jointly burn and brandish my valor; whether I will stand in the bleak that surrounds me as an icon of belief in my good fortune to come, or wilt from blindness and fear, only seeing the good that has disappeared, now undone.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I hear this habituated, half-witted, clichéd, flippant delivery in my head on the state of the many challenges we all face as human beings. In fact, we often do grow stronger through the hardships from which we face and learn. In feeling, I find myself refused the reward of making it through the tough, the deep mud gripping, the internal and external beatings and hurdles of life’s trials. I want my reward!

In my romantic notions, the strength I gained from May to May in this year past, through doubled-death and theft of treasures, through accidents with cars and stairs, through broken bones, relationships and spirits, and the audit, in my mind these monthly events of expansion force-fed my emperor and empress of compassion within. Through tears and screams and finding center again, and again, each rip in the fabric of life that I knew of past recreated itself with the sure stiches of benevolence—my choice; it was either this or resentment, and hatred (I had cause).

The nasty hurts and holes of dear loved ones leaving my life and this earth. The pains of aggressive, desperate strangers whaling upon my car, shards of glass in every crevice, taking precious, well-loved and well-used items that touched my heart. The overwhelming feeling of my body’s pain after falling down stairs—two sets, two times… at least it was in Egypt—followed with real-life bumper cars on US soil while trying to empty the small lake from my book bag; culvert water bottle to blame (I had taken advantage of the ease of walking and lifting and turning my limbs and joints before, no longer). Then the numbers, the digits, the money of past calling and pushing from every state filing since 2012—I had said I wanted to be better, do better with money, feel more adept and friendly with spreadsheets—I always seem to get exactly what I want, whether I know exactly what I’m asking for, or not.

The secret of the hero(ine): Believing In, and Practicing, the Alchemy of Life’s Love = educated faith.

Practice what you preach. I’d say there have been enough opportunities to practice this alchemy and faith. Practice and more practice: life’s torrent winds becoming the warm, steady breath of my heart; the adrenalin of ill-fated timing and circumstance charging the focused vitality of my spine; the slogging through, one step at a time, foundationally filling the essence of my constitution, from the Mother up. Practicing inner-peace and outer confidence from this place; harrowing resilience fortifying my being.

Now it is time to lift a goblet of mead to Nottingham, to Buddha, to practice, to fortification, to the sapling heroine, or at this point in my life, the humble and auspicious, well-developed redwood; standing tall, knowing more than before—wiser—loving, compassionate and nurturing.

Cheers to more than making it through.
Cheers to you too, and to all your good fortune here now and to come.

To Living Sensual!

XO Piper