Thursday, May 31, 2018

Clean White Sheets

A very dear friend once asked me several years back, "If you could have anything in the world, no matter the cost, what would it be?"

I pondered for a few minutes, thinking about the endless options that this open-ended question/scenario could entail... no matter the cost, nothing off limits. While I was thinking, my friend answered what she would want, an answer I entertain many would echo--travel the world, see new places and sights, then boat for a stretch. I nodded, smiling at her worldly and sophisticated answer.

"That sounds nice," I replied, thinking of how that response would simply never cross my mind nor exit my lips because it is not something I have ever or currently desire.

She nodded.

I pondered my response and desire for a few moments more until what I wanted to possess came to me as gently and easily as a spring breeze graces a bed of roses.

"I'd like a clean apartment with never-ending and always clean, fresh white towels, clean white sheets, and never having to do anything myself to make these things happen."

"That's what you want, Rachel? So, like to live in a hotel of sorts? Is that it?" she clarifyingly inquired.

"Mmhmm, yeah, that is what I want."

"Okay, fair enough."

The conversation on our "big dreams and lofty lives" (quotes clearly intentional here) ended then, at that. My if-you-could-have-anything-in-the-world dream, however, did not end there, nor did it leave me...ever.

And now, as I sit on this chair in Denver, just feet away from my bedroom, in which the white sheets are constantly and seemingly never-endingly changed from fresh to even fresher on a daily basis, the conversations of days passed strikes me. The bathroom, too, just a few feet away, rife with closets of perfectly folded, clean fresh towels on a daily, nightly, and all-the-time-ly basis.

No matter the cost, no matter the struggle, the irony boils my being as the stiflingly hot Colorado air infiltrates my now mostly inside soul.

So here I am and here I sit on this light blue chair looking up at the lighter blue evening sky in the West (Led Zeppelin reference if you please) on this hellishly hot night. I muse at my own circle of wishes for things attainable and yet previously seemingly not so, my cycle of thoughts and dreams and days and years, and the circle of life and lives.

With love, grace, humility and authenticity,
Rachel (fill in the blank) Berg

rbb or rvb...tbd

Thursday, May 10, 2018

The Dot: Denver Dabblings, Part I...

...the beginning of which, while written, shall remain unposted, for now.


How a whole life can become the dot.

Always chasing the proverbial dragon, whether heroin or not (like A, for names shall remain anonymous for obvious reasons), the dragon still breathes fire and the fire is still hot. Another injection of heroin or another red eye from Starbucks, another hour of cardio or another glass of wine or sake as hot as the dragon's fire. Another phone, another bag another shot of Fix-It-Adrenaline, a yoga class more, a pill too many, an iPhone, an iPod, an iPad to spare, a puff of weed, a meal too few, pick your poison, for the poison matters not.

"twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wave;
all mimsy were the borogoves and the mome raths outgrabe.

beware the jabberwock, my son! the jaws that bite, the claws that catch;
beware the jubjub bird, and shun the frumious bandersnatch!" fitting, said me to Alice today as these words reappeared out of the clear purple sky into my now brighter brain today. How utterly fitting that these appeared before the dragon themed drama class today. But yes, they did.

Beware the Jabberwock, my dear girl, the jaws the bite, the claws that scratch...and all of that and all the rest.

Yes, beware the dragon, my love, chase it not, leave it be, the dragon will bite, its fire will burn, inside its lair may you never live again. Leave it alone, heed the invisible do not enter signs for the red warnings they bear, leave it be like the black box you failed to leave be years ago. You opened the matte black box, with its scraggly tied dirty ugly ribbon, you didn't leave it there, instead caved to its falsified lure, and my what transpired as the nasty consequence of evil. But anger not, dear girl, we live, we learn, we breathe, we eat. Eat, Pray, Love, like the cliche of cliches but yes. Anger not, we learn from our lives, we love from our lures, we write as we see and we see through our stories.

But I digress.

This time, the morphed matte-black-box-to-dragon, may you, my love, may you not wander through the valley of the shadow of death, may you leave the dragon to boil in its own lair, may YOU grant you the strength to stay away, remain outside the lines of the always-pulling-inward-bullseye target, for therein, little girl, therin lies the most dangerous place within the fire, the center of the rings, the darkest of the darks, the hottest hell of the dragon's fire...therein lies the valley of death, on which you mustn't and shall not walk.

To go from always chasing the dragon, to seeing the dragon, leaving him there outside the door of your festive party, leaving him as the uninvited do this may be the most difficult task of all, precious one, but do not fear, for you, yes you, you alone have the power to stay outside the lines, avoid the dot, leave the door locked and let the uninvited dragon alone to burn in its own rotten hot hell. Yes, precious living one, you can do it and doing it you are. So keep on the path, let the arrow lead you forward, let the light shine in your favor and not against. Let others hold your hand and not your hair, let them stroke your arm and trust their process, instead of the fucked up process of days of old.

You, precious girl, you got this and you have this, just remember to beware the jabberwock, the dragon, the matte black box and hold fast and tight onto the magical beautiful brass key you picked up from the carpet on the 5th floor. Hold onto the key that unlocks the door to the sunny side of the street and the brightly lit cortex, the key to empty the darkness from within to make room for the light.

*The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.