Summer Solstice. The lightest, longest day of the year. A time for new age spiritual types, pagans, Wiccans, to perform rituals, celebrating the power of the sun.
A time for yoga articles saying it’s about finding a light inside of yourself.
When you don’t feel there is one. When everything inside is pitch black. When in fact, the sun that has just decided to come out is irritating.
I’ve seen enough of the damned sun. I don’t care if it’s warm outside.
I’m ready for an excuse to be selfish. To completely indulge myself and forget about everyone else. I don’t want to care anymore. Yet at this time, I’m being asked to care. To think.
To love. Constantly.
To be ever ready to be useful.
Have I been okay this week? Have I offended anyone by not doing enough?
Do I look okay? Am I being selfish? Does anyone think less of me? Are they okay? They don’t seem okay. I must comfort them…
Has anyone noticed the empty bottle that was not opened when company was around?
Empty bottles don’t disappear. They hang about and stare at you till you put them with the ‘acceptable’ recycling. They are the embarrassing relation next to the elegant green glass that went well with dinner.
Does anyone else find responsibility to be completely and utterly soul destroying? That, by ‘setting a good example’ this penetrating dullness seeps in that cries out for relief? It’s mind numbing.
It’s simply a part of mortal nature that we can’t be perfect. You can’t ask for good behavior ALL the time. It isn’t natural. It isn’t normal. I’m a woman. Not an angel.
At some point, we crack. And the more you push, the more you demand of the good one, the quiet one, the one who never has a problem, the more you lean on THAT person, the more you punish them for the slightest discrepancy….
The more dangerous they become.
One day can go by like a dream. The night can be an intoxicating epiphany where everything is clearer and more enjoyable.
The following morning poisonous and cruel, filled with injections of shame every few moments.
A savage circle.
Time is slow and I am not a good person.
Yet the ‘wonderful’ light goes on and on and on and on.
It’s like it’s saying…’Look, I’m here. Even if you don’t appreciate it. Even if you won’t do anything about it. I’m here. And I always will be.’
And I reply…’I know. And no dark deed I perform will change how beautiful you are.’