LADY WISDOM CALLS
A piece written for White Magazine
Lady wisdom calls --- Can you hear Madame Insight raising her voice? She’s taken her stand at First and Main, at the busiest intersection. I’m telling you how to live well, I’m telling you how to live at your best. My mouth chews and savors and relishes truth. — (exerts from proverbs chapter 8).
Rhetorically I ask myself questions to see what answers casually return, that way, the answers can be delivered intuitively without the expectation of needing to be fully rounded - because they are indeed questions asked --- open ended.
Our truthful stance always comes easy when the curtains are open, the moon is high and the day after midnight has permission to rise unguarded. So here I am, it’s a Friday night, the candles bloom and tomorrow is spacious in all it’s beauty, who cares if the tears fall and the answers are ugly ... I delve, I ask and I let the truth find me --- asking the bold question with intentions vulnerable in nature --- “Do I walk around in the living room of marriage with an eclectic mish-mash of gathered masks?” Metaphoric masks gathered to portray a hoped aroma concealing who I am really called to be ... The questions fly freely around the pink walls of our 1960’s shack and I let the returning words banter with themselves as I collect them like glimmering dragonfly’s one by one
For the longest time in my early 20’s I masqueraded around sheepishly as though I had nothing to say--- masking my most colourful and beautiful parts, dumbing them down, stripping them of their dignity, burying them, hiding them and painting them with a false mask so that I could never be seen as “too much”. I was very aware that the ruffling of feathers was indeed a colder-sack I didn’t have the boldness to march around. I kept myself composed, neat and packaged --- habitually conditioning myself quiet ...So quiet that my silhouette mirrored a very polite mask, a mask constructed by my own bare hands to chameleon my way through life.
It wasn’t until my first taste of Love that I found myself in a place where I was able to recognise and call my masks out, commanding them to step down off their thrones and surrender. I was lead here by my deep desire to have an intimate connection with the man I would spend my forever with. It was at this moment I realised how much I censored myself, It was awakening yet alarming, liberating yet confronting --- the tenacious delver in me wanted nothing more than to shake it off, dance it out and ask myself the real questions all in the name of LOVE.
Who was I anyway? Did I even know how to be brutally honest with myself? Who was I created to be and what is my purpose? I went full tilt into the questions and let lady wisdom lead.
Humans learn through patterns, and through a pattern that has taken shape in my life by the likes of the most consistent man I have ever known I have found myself in this beautiful place of surrender. My lover --- living life full and open, gently lead me down a path of truth where no stone was left un-turned, embracing all parts of me, calling me lovely, and drawing out my most colourful traits --- nothing alarmed him, the more I shared the greater his love. It was clear that He himself had encountered a love so perfect he was able to intimately show his true self, un-masked and without fear. He entered our love adventure with his masks on the ground and in turn I chose to take off mine.
I say this next string of thoughts with every fibre of internal conviction. It’s become the rhythm of my heart, the beat of my revelation. All un-masking and intimacy I have ever come to see unfold in our marriage has taken flight from one non-negotiable truth --- Choosing to be a conversationalist. Even if you are not naturally that way inclined, choose it. You can never talk too much ... talk and talk and talk until there is no more to talk about. It’s in the talking that our self created defenses and masks casually fade without the need to fight to get them to surrender, we barely even need to command them to leave. When we talk and talk and talk, they just romantically fall to the ground in the light of truth.
A dear friend once said to me that it’s in the telling of our stories that we find freedom (un-masking), each round of telling our story finds us a new level of boldness in revealing truth and the layers that engulf a story. Story telling helps us find resolve allowing us to find more pieces of the answers to our questionings --- we can tell and tell and tell until wisdom leads us to a conclusive victory. This is what I like to think of as a mask growing wings and flying away, the resolve is the wind.
Masks conceal, but I’m thankful for the Zoro mask my love wore when chasing me and shaking nervously underneath it --- I needed a confident man, someone that new what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it. His confident love was my un-doing. Maybe some masks have their place? --- or maybe masks of this nature could be kindly referred to as a cloak --- you know those days when you put on a cloak of joy? even when you’d much rather be moping around in your striped pjamas. Sometimes we need to choose our approach to a day / situation or circumstance even when we feel like avoiding it or masking it --- the choice to wear a cloak is not a mask but a decision of maturity partnering with Lady wisdom to lead us to a destination we are afraid to trek to. It’s a matter of not letting our emotions dictate our decisions --- because we all know that emotions tell fibs and it’s the fibs that create masks.
When a mask clings to us, fear is the gate in which it enters and makes itself a resident, compelling us cling to the comfort of all that is mediocre ---It takes a quietened ear to hear lady wisdom whisper her reveals --- let the rebel in you, call her out --- strip her off and sway into freedom, because keeping a mask is a lot more work then taking it down - so why not just have some truths with your next cup of tea. Choose the uncomfy and dance accordingly, your boldness reward is intimacy, understanding, connection and freedom. A mask can’t stick when your arms are in the air and your feet are moving to beat of victory’s call.