A few weeks have passed since my last entry. Life is full of movement.
I am sickened by the results of the election and am eating my bitter feelings. Now I’m more like a literal bookworm that unabashedly chomps through everything in sight than a metaphorical bookworm that reads books. (Pretend that made sense?) My heart is too heavy to feel disgusted. The sick joke is that all this damn takeout sits in my stomach like sand - and even tastes like it after the first couple of bites.
Pivot:
I don’t remember why I wrote this months ago in my “Notes” app - but I did:
“There is no losing.”
My iPhone notes app is the home of many of my stray thoughts. I have so many “notes” that are just sentences that pop into my head - I think “Maybe I can find a home for that somewhere.” Sentences that feel loaded, juicy, or meaningful in the moment. Which isn’t to say that all of them actually are, of course.
So what to make of that “There is no losing” in retrospect? I suppose you could associate it with a cliche that seems similar on the surface: “Nothing to lose.” I never understood that phrase. There is always so much that can be lost. It also gives a whiff of. “Failure is not an option.” Uhhhh… it’s a highly viable option.
I don’t hold grudges against most cliches but I do against those 2.
So how can “there is no losing” be true? What do I mean? Well, how very nice of you to ask. When I talk about not losing, I am referring to LOSING YOUR CORE SELF. Donald Trump has not made me into less of a Caitlin Cassidy or… less anything. I will continue to fight to recognize poisons - social media poison, family posion, the poison of self doubt… bad habits…
I should try to stay still, stay settled, except when I must fight. Every disappointment, hurt, scar, burn - even little pricks in the garden… all of this can be molded into material. All of it can be useful to my writing.
And this - the life I have and the soul I am still trying to learn to honor - is all mine.
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