When your world blows up it's never really put back together again though that is obviously the first thing you wish for and try to make happen. Why can't it be like it used to be? But it never really is. It's funny how much time we spend trying to put Humpty Dumpty together again. But damn we try!
The planet Krypton blew up and Superman spent the rest of his days on the run. He was forever running to a new world that he could call home.
Or ... Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath where the Joads set out for California because there's nothing left in Oklahoma except dust and they believe there's got to be something better than dust to live for.
Or ... Moses wandering around in the Wilderness for forty years looking for a Promised Land because the alternative was hopeless slavery.
Or ... ME!
A couple of years ago, my whole world blew up. Shockingly, I found myself suddenly single (thank you Bill Shearouse), remaining on the island of St. Martin by myself taking long beach walks, losing weight while eating fish with Oliver, getting darker than I've ever been (please appreciate the double entrendre), and pouring it all out in writing on the World Wide Web. I didn't want to go back to a world that used to be so I stayed on the run.
I was on the run because it's hard to say who you are these days, but you run on anyway don't you baby? You keep running for another place to find that saving grace (Tom Petty). Most of what had defined who I was wasn't there anymore. At least that's what I believed. Of course you remain in a state of shock for a while when worlds blow up.
When I finally came home, some things remain. It was akin to Tornado or Hurricane victims returning to their blown apart and water soaked home to see what they can salvage. Back on Tybee, I found the house was intact but the home was gone. The sun still rose but the reasons to get up in the morning were nowhere to be found. Empty nails that hung pictures survived but their reason for being there were missing. Empty closets came from nowhere.
There were incredible discoveries during the salvage operation. My children were still with me. So were a small handful of people who love me for who I am and not for what I can do for them. Tybee, which means salt in Euchee Indian, served as a preservative and soothed a broken soul. Dead friends came back to life. Goddess remained steadfast.
Most importantly, though it took a long time, I found me again.
One of the things that has come to me over the past couple of years is the conviction that we are left to build ourselves a new world. God creates. God created people who create ... or they don't. If they don't ... they sin. If they do ... they're working alongside God which is as holy as it gets.
So I've been creating ... which is damn hard work! The bathroom doesn't look anything like it did before. The bed in the bedroom is new. The kitchen is much better than it used to be. The backyard looks great! The things I work on everyday are more satisfying than the things I worked on before (though the pay isn't as good). The joys of performing on the Back Row are tremendous and extend from Bar Church to Street Medicine to places around the world.
And just has Superman never made it back to Krypton, the Joads somehow found their way, and Moses never thought for a second about going back to Egypt ... Savannah means little to me anymore. Creating takes most of your energy leaving precious little for what used to be. And Humpty Dumpty is just a bunch of broken eggs.
But ...
This is a beautiful place. Surrounded by people who love me, doing things that are meaningful to me, ignoring all of the advice from those who want me to be who I used to be ... I find myself incredibly happy. Though the scars of a blown up world have left me more cautious than I've ever been. One blown up world a lifetime is enough for anybody! The truth is that I've lived through five ... which is a bitch.
But here I am. Passionately in love. Figuring out financing. Apparently unable to determine which is the most important stack of stuff to work on first. I want to take Sarah to places we will discover together. And there is a new family to be hatched ... which is what you make out of broken eggs.
But ... I can SEE the Promised Land.
I figure I'll be there by March.
