I’ve been strict with water and sleep and even exercise.
In fact, lots of puzzle pieces of life are fitting together. As they should. Not the forced way we did as kids. One by one, the frame, the corners. Maybe something in the middle, like a hamster or eyeglasses or even Sandra Bullock.
A piece I haven’t put into place is writing and that is a shame not because of my words being bottlenecked, but the words of talented and feeling friends that sit idle in my folders, a place you could never appreciate them. I wish I’d posted this on Father’s Day.
Beatrice Pittoco has been here before, in a #GirlsRock piece. It was beautiful and moving and included her incredible photography. She’s back today, sharing a poignant piece about a place she’d love to build a tunnel to.
She writes of a journey I have – as have many of you – taken.
Please give her a warm CD welcome, and check out her photography. There exists a recognition of pain in her words that resonates, and their existence, to me, seems to galvanize the notion for me that we’re all in this together.
If I could build a tunnel from my house to anywhere, where would I choose and why?
This is a question that isn’t easy to respond to. I have been fortunate to travel to different places around the world. Always searching, never sure of what I was looking for. I saw oceans of emerald green, and mountains that took my breath away. Yet I always returned feeling empty. I looked at faces, and places, looked into the eyes of strangers, seeking myself in anyone who might notice. But I never found what I was looking for.
I suppose we are all travellers in some ways. Travelling through our individual lives, our individual days, hours and minutes. We never truly know our final destination, but we are all given an imagination, that keeps us company in our darkest hour.
The tunnel I would build, would not go to any worldly destination. It would travel to a place far away from here. Far away from sickness and evil. Far away from anything that wreaks havoc on the soul. Far away from the selfishness and destructive side of human nature. Far away from this broken world. My whole life, I have felt out of place. Out of touch with how the world expects me to be. I always made an effort to understand how another might feel, and always tried my best to do the right thing. I’ve certainly made my fair share of mistakes, and undoubtedly, I have hurt people along the way. But my tunnel takes me far away from my own misgivings, my own actions, my own self or the self I perceive myself to be.
My tunnel exits to a place of color and beauty. Where the trees are just as alive as I am. Where all the people I have loved, surround me, void of their ugliness; where the light that I always saw shines through them, as I always chose to see them, in the land of the living. Where I find the thing I’ve been unable to find, for so many years. Where I find myself, my light. Where there are no worries, or weakness. Where love is the law. Maybe my tunnel will take me to what I perceive to be heaven. A place I know, without a shadow of a doubt exists. A place where I cease to have the dichotomy of mind and spirit that the human body encompasses. A place where I can love the way I want to, without shame, or rejection. A place of acceptance and peace.
I have spent the past week, watching my father die. His body has succumbed to his disease. I realize that he is traveling through the tunnel I have built in my own mind. And my hope is that he arrives to the place I envision soon. Where his body is as strong as it once was, where his strength returns, and where his light is no longer dimmed by this strange place, we currently call home.
– Beatrice Pitocco
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