Between a Church and a Bar.

 

 

If there was one thing Desert Wind Storm Peggy ever said true of me was that I was never one to follow others well. When family members would complain I had fallen into the wrong crowds, she would always reply I hadn’t fallen into anywhere. I was in fact ALWAYS searching, not FOLLOWING. Still am. And I imagine I will be all the way into my golden years. Searching. Trying to understand.

 

Lately it has become more and more clear to me that when one grows up between a church pew and a bar stool finding a solid balance within that realm is hard. Rough even. Both these areas held what I felt for a long time a strong sense of security in belonging to something. It also fed my creative side. As a child, whether at church with the grandparents or at work with my mother while she readied the bar to open my imagination and intuitiveness was pushing ON mode. It took me until recently to see that neither of those environments fed my spirit the way I maybe thought they had.  So it is only natural I would seek in adulthood.

 

Church for the longest time did provide an early child/adult sanctuary for the spirit, teaching me to walk in love when I didn’t want to and providing a comfort nobody really could at the time. But once we moved coastal I began to see what we had up north was just a familiar safety net and in that familiarity I never really stood on my own rock of FAITH. It wasn’t until I lost a church group that I learned to stand on faith, heart, and what my religion would come to mean for me. When people learn I grew up Pentecostal they usually tense up. I am pretty sure they think I am gonna start speaking in tongues while holding a snake, daring it to bite me just to prove God will save me. So, let’s start there…. I believe in God. Yes. I do not believe in tempting God therefor I did not grow up holding a snake. Nor did the words of spoken language leave my lips, or the desire to run all over the church. Only the desire to fall on my knees in prayer has ever come over me. I have witnessed this yes, not the snake stuff, and sometimes I believed it was real. Sometimes I did not. Sometimes I felt all I was ever taught was to be saved so I didn’t die. A concept that still escapes me. Over the decades I came to understand that it was okay if I didn’t have a prayer circle. My prayer warrior self had grown stronger in faith because of it. I find comfort in my spirit and where I sit on my back porch church pew (yes I own one).

 

This is same for the bar aspect of my spirit. And it saddens me to let go of a part of my life yet again. I had in fact really thought sitting on a barstool would remain fun, a little whiskey, etc. I am sad to know I outgrew bars and heavy drinking. That is doesn’t suit my health, my mind.  Because who am I in the middle of all that. Between the two. Fucking forties. I really did for the longest time believe I would fit there too. But no.

 

It is no longer about where I fit with others and about where I fit within myself. Maybe I have done too much yoga, who knows, but my hippie spirit is seriously seeking nature. Seeking to reset the button, shed winter, welcome spring, and accept I am just not a follower. It is okay to stay in a searching state with life. Just remember to let all that searching help you grow, not hold you to past behaviors or repetitive patterns with loved ones for fear they won’t love who’ve you become.