The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing

9/2/17

8:02AM

Authenticity

I am listening to podcasts on everything these days. Yesterday it was talks on happiness, none of which yet really resonated. 

Except maybe Elizabeth Gilbert’s message on a Ted Talk where she discussed writing another book after Eat Pray Love. It was interesting to hear that she had to find her way back to what she loved—which was the writing—and leave the extremes of both failure and “success” behind to do so. 

She said you have to “go home” and that “home” is the place that you love more than yourself. 

Now that resonated. 

Because I keep going back to the Sandbox—to this place—to this writing place inside of me that is all about me but beyond me too I think. 

A

Where are with the website?

S

The campaign, which I honestly turned off..then on…then off…then…on now feels, finally, comfortably off for now. It took a week or more of this, similar to the social media, to be okay with the quiet. 

A, I honestly do not understand what I’m doing with this website but I know that it feels right. 

A

We are quieting things down, like you said. And we are listening. 

S

Listening for what?

A

For how we feel. 

MLG
Well? How do we feel?

S

Like I said, quiet feels right.

A

How does the website feel looking back on how it was before?

S

Noisy. 

A

Perhaps we want to shrink this experience even further. The vision of a book, the allowance of a book, puts our trauma and our experience of processing it into a smaller place—

S

—which leaves room for new things. 

And now, finally, comes the moment to release this tricky, beautiful imperfect bird of mine and allow her to at last fly free. It is my hope and hunch that this release will allow me find another bird, one that speaks to me in new and important ways.

A

Our grieving when we do it feels more directed, less chaotic. We have healed, S, tremendously. And we’ve found ourself a writer, a real writer, not because we are famous for it but because, S, it is our home. 

S

Thanks, A. And Monkey. And B? Are you there?

B

Good morning all. 

S

B, how are you?

B

I am as you are, S, which I believe is better. 

S

Are you still in park bench park?

B

Indeed. I stand and I sit for never forgetting. 

S

How do you feel about…everything? 

B

I feel as you feel…that the bad therapy is now well behind us and that it took excising that tumor—filing the complaint—in order to allow us to move on in our meditation to both heal and to evolve as a person and an artist. 

S

Are you lonely? 

B

I was. But I feel that my loneliness, which has been haunting us for years, is being addressed in concrete ways. That finally, down on our knees two weeks ago, we say things must change…inside and out. 

And they have. 

S

Love to you, B. I am so glad to have you with me, as part of me. 

B

And I am honored to be here. 

S

Are you okay? 

B

I am hot, S. And at times I get very tired. I am not young like Monkey. I need to sleep long hours beneath the willow trees here in Park Bench Park. 

S

You are a lot like my dad, B. Whom I miss in my mind terribly though he’s still alive. I am told to not pre-grieve him but oh Not Gods it is hard. 

B

As long as you live, I live. And as long as I live, so does he. 

S

Thanks, B. Is it okay to leave the meditation now? I am getting really sad. 

B

Of course. 

A

Allow, allow, allow.