A hiatus is for facing what is easily unfaceable when otherwise engaged with matters of earning an income. How to make $$$, how much $$$ to make, do I have enough $$$, is there ever enough $$$ (?), what happens to the $$$ between Monday and Sunday (?), those $$$ sure take up a lot of time!
On hiatus, with no $$$ to think about (because then I would think about the $$$ I'm not making), I am able to be with what is real. Not that incomes are wholly unimportant. They just don't matter in the big picture.
THE BIG PICTURE.
Who I am, who you are, what is happening in the world and whether or not I can do anything about anything. That's the big picture. It's what impacts a singular viewpoint. So the big picture matters. A lot.
When I'm consumed with daily matters of hoo-ha I tend to get myopic and overindulged in cupcakes. Not literal cupcakes, but the kind of cupcakes that make me feel nestled in my toddler bed with a blanky. Like puppy videos, a couple of extra glasses of wine and mindless ditty's designed to make me believe all is well everywhere.
All is not well everywhere. It never is. That doesn't mean it's a good thing for me to avoid looking, hum loudly and plug my ears to escape the knowledge or lie to myself by saying "well at least all is well in my neighborhood" or "not knowing is better than knowing". Not knowing is not better than knowing.
There have been thousands, perhaps millions of times I've looked away on purpose. Like when I covered my eyes from seeing violence, maimed bodies and starving animals or when I forgot most of the horrible parts of my childhood.
Not looking doesn't mean nothing happened. Not looking means forgetting. Not looking means not doing. Not looking means staying as is. Not looking means stagnation. Not looking means being afraid. Not looking means avoiding the knowing. Not looking means hiding. Not looking means never healing. Not looking means not witnessing. Not looking means not looking.
Forgetting the horrible parts of my childhood made my adult life, lifeless. All the breath of my existence was utilized in forgetting, nothing was left for living. I didn't realize this until I was forced to look backward.
I held my gaze in place, even during the horrendous re-remembering, because not to do so would be continuing to give the abusers my power. Abusers live large in the dark. They welcome darkness and the ability to hide who they are from the light and from themselves.
It was one thing to have an abuser take my power. At such a young age I didn't realize it was happening. But as an adult, minus a toddler bed, I'm fully aware that by not looking I'm giving away what is mine.
Awareness is f*cked up and amazing.