Down the Cherry Pit
Hello all, and happy full moon in Aquarius!
I hope everyone has had a wonderful summer thus far! I’ve kept myself busy with a new job at Brooklyn Art Haus, producing and performing in shows there. I’ve been getting Rita Libretto back on her feet after a 2 year hiatus and it feels like such a huge accomplishment just to work on it again. And anytime I get to play Margo (Rita’s sister) I get a huge boost of confidence. I’ve always liked pretending to be other people, it’s fun to let them take the reins and be wacky out in the open.
I’m so proud of how far I’ve come since coming to New York City seven years ago, not to mention continuing to piece together an artistic career during the pandemic. I didn’t know half the challenges I would have to overcome when I first started out, but I also didn’t know my full capabilities. Hard to know if I’ll ever know my full capabilities. Sometimes I feel like I can do anything if I’m pushed up against a wall. I’m trying not to underestimate myself and continue to trust my instincts and this process but, it feels like every time I overcome one hurdle I find out another one of my limitations. And that brings me to the story I wrote last month. I wrote about the deep pit inside me last year and here she is again with another lesson.
I’m holding onto the sides of a hard cold rocky wall and I’m climbing down. I don’t remember starting to climb. I don’t remember being at the top. I don’t remember who or what I am. But none of that matters. All that matters is that I keep climbing. I have to keep climbing because, I know, somewhere there will be something when I get to where I’m going. I don’t know what something is, but I know it’s there. I’ll know it when I have it.
I’m careful with my movements. My arms are gripping above, my feet are carefully finding my footing against the side of the wall. I’m moving so slowly because I can’t see. My eyes are blocked out by the pitch blackness. Or maybe I have no eyes. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that somewhere in the future I am going to hit the bottom, or a different wall, or a gaping hole, or a… thing. I don’t know. But, I know it will happen. That is all I know. So I carefully climb down.
Ah! AHA! There!
I recoil upwards, away from the new sensation in the sole of my left foot. Something is there! I knew it would be! I finally felt it, after all this time! I feel a swell of pride in my chest from my own accomplishment. But I remind myself the job is not done, I still don’t know much. I need to act with caution. I stow away this sense of victory I feel coming on and I carefully reach my leg out again, trying to remember in my muscles how extended I was when I feel it again. There - just below my foot at nearly a full extension. I regrip with my hands and put a small amount of weight on it, whatever it is.
It feels sturdy. Maybe even a landing. I can’t tell how stable it is, and there is really only one way to know so I begin to transfer more of my weight to it, clutching to the wall. It appears to be large… maybe rounded… or sloped…
A new astounding sensation. The more contact I make with this surface the more vision I gain. As if a light is being turned on from inside my own body, shining outward. I begin to see the shapes of the rocks around me and can make out the vastness of the pit. I look down and can see the huge stone I am now almost standing on completely. It is definitely large enough to hold me, so with a feeling that is a mixture of anticipation, fear, and a dash of upcoming regret, I let go of the wall. I let go of my safety, my only contact with something outside of myself. I let go, finally, after what could have been an eternity of climbing down this pit.
I solidify my footing on the boulder and let the moment wash over me. I am finally to the thing I knew would happen. It may not be remarkable but it is something new. A resting spot. A safe place that I can stay in. No more climbing towards an unknown something, no more questions of what is this, where am I going. No. I am sturdy. I am on a foundation. I am here.
I stand up and take a look around. I can’t believe how far down I climbed! And it’s remarkable that I did this without my vision! I don’t know that I would have attempted it if I had seen it first. I am so proud of myself. Here I am!
Then the stone gives a small, but horrifying shudder. And then another.
I crouch down to grip the surface of my new landing spot and crawl to peer over the side. Not far beneath the edge is a crimson stream of liquid that is gushing along one side of the once so sturdy rock. I look to the back of the stone and see that the water level is much higher than in the front. The river has been pooling behind me. But now, my weight has shifted the positioning just enough to nearly break the dam that has been holding back the full power of this endless red river I am now seeing for the first time. A horrible realization washes over me; I cannot hear the sound of the rushing liquid because I have no hearing.
The red river breaks the stone loose and together we go hurtling down the current at a terrifying speed.
I think it’s common to feel powerless when thinking about the mysteries of the future because so little of it is in our control. There is so much we don’t know when we set out on a new adventure, but maybe that’s good! Maybe if we know too much, it actually limits us and we sabotage ourselves before we can even get started. The way I see it, we just have to hope that we’re climbing towards the right things, and when we have a moment of rest, try to look back and feel real gratitude for all your strengths. I know when I do that, it gives me the courage to keep moving forward, towards a goal I can’t always see, and another challenge I don’t hear coming.
