Elle Vampa

More and more people gather in the distance as I tighten my grasp by digging my fingers even deeper into the dirt.

I’m on the edge of a cliff, well, actually I’m over the edge as I am dangling dangerously above an abyss that seems limitless – all I can make out as I nervously glance down are flocks of mist and glints of water.

Must. Not. Let. Go.

Someone comes over and sits down by me; his feet dangling happily while mine shake inadvertently. He talks soothingly and I look up into his kind face.

Seriously, Bert Hellinger, why don’t you just pull me back UP?

(By now you must understand I’m in a deep meditation/visualisation, right? I’d say dream but my mind still won’t let me sleep so that reference would be sadomasochistic.)

Bert shakes his head and points at my by-now-turned-white-from-the-force-of-clawing-into-the-dirt-hands: “You don’t need to hold onto the old if you desire something new. The key is to let go. Someone wise said that, don’t you remember? If you keep holding on to what you’re afraid to let go of, you won’t have any hands left to receive something better.”

(I really hate it when people quote me to me – especially in my own visualisations!)

I shake my head in turn and feel my left hand starting to slip.

“I can’t,” I cry, “I just can’t.”

Bert smiles again.

“Who do you love the most?”

And there she is: the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. Wearing the same purple-and-white-striped dress she was buried in.

Grandma ♥

She picks me up, cradles me. I break down into sobs as she gingerly strokes my hair.

“Sweetheart, I know it’s scary, but you have to do this. Take the leap. You know you have to do this.”

And I do know. But I’m too afraid.

So I tell her of my sickening fear of crashing down at the bottom of the abyss. Of not being caught by someone down below. Of having to make the way down all on my own.

Grandma holds me in a close embrace and we make a deal: when my favourite songs comes on (I meditate using music), I’ll let go.

She wipes away my tears and takes both of my hands in hers – old, soft, wrinkled skin. I miss her. I love her.

Unexpectedly and three songs too early, she gently pushes me over the edge.

But before hysteria even gets a chance to stir, let alone take over, a parachute opens and I start floating instead of crashing.

A purple-and-white-striped parachute.

I’m free! I no longer have to exhaust myself dangling from a cliff!

All around me are the most wonderful sights: the sun breaking through dark clouds, waterfalls, and green fields stretching farther than my imagination runs.

But the most wonderful is the view I have when I look up: my grandmother’s colours.

Her dress, my parachute.

I’m tired of being a loser. Writing on this blog has been a challenge, not only because of my insomnia (and therefore lethargy), but also because my writings feel dark, lonely, and sad. All things I no longer wish to be.

Yet I’ve never managed to quit writing altogether. Seems futile to try again only because I am unhappy with how my life is going right now.

So expect some changes. Slowly, as I float into new territory.

I’ll forever be Elle Vampa, but I refuse to remain a loser :)