Phoenix

Windows dark like empty eyes. Not sure when the abandonment began, however, I began absorbing the darkness. Ducked behind the glass was a lost soul, scared and hurt. Afraid to let the light inside. Trembling and yet sheltered behind the lifeless windows. The house did not judge but was holding space for the soul to once again be filled with the flame of a fire.

I was neglected and like an abandoned house, I carried the emptiness like a badge of honor. My energy was of an emotional weather. Time had stopped like one could see on an old, abandoned building. But memory kept moving forward and inward.

Hidden inside the darkness, every sound I attempted to make echoed back at me, still and empty. There was residue of warmth left behind but the house, the soul's temple was empty. The warmth was simply, left behind. It was quiet and the stillness was thick like tense fog. Hence the echo from the emptiness and the unnerving hum of absences.

Growing up I was confused. In my early teenage years, I became a rebel without a cause. In my later years I became bedazzled. I displaced my feelings of being lost with addiction to money, intoxication, and anger. Yet there was a small steady flicker of warmth somewhere tucked away. A yearning inside the soul without shelter.

Unfortunately, I never had a home, a safe place, a house or family supporting my built. Isn't it so true that we are born into families without having a choice. However, later in life we can choose how to create and built. Wherever we direct our energy towards and whatever we set our minds to, will grow.

My biological mother was a ranting lunatic and my father a raging alcoholic. I had a half-brother from my mom's first marriage who committed suicide at a young age. Then I also had a half-sister from my mom's third marriage. None of them were able to be supportive or build upon the ruins given to them.

To make matters worse, I had a stepmom who hated me for no reason at all. She did not like my mother, so she just decided not to like me either. From that second marriage of my father, I have two more half sibling. I never had any connection with either one of them. My stepmother was only after my dad's property. My dad had no money saved because he drank it all away. None of them were builders or supporters either.

So yup, I was longing for warmth, for a home, a safe place and family support. Naturally I did all the wrong things to achieve that goal. I became defiant and aggressive. My body was like a bomb shelter in an open field somewhere out there in the nowhere. I ran, destroyed and rebuild. Then I built a home again destroyed it just like I saw it from an early age. Nevertheless, I became a builder and all the ruins I created are landmarks on my soul.

It took some hard life lessons, for me to rebuild a warm safe, shelter which I would attend to without running away. I was longing for a family and a better life for so long that the longing became my coping mechanism. This coping mechanism functioned like heavy machinery.

Needless to say, giving up the destructive mechanism did not come easy. A lot of suffering, digging deep and cleaning was necessary before I turned my will over to the architect of life. I asked the universe for assistance in creating my blueprint. First, I had to demolish the old building of life. Then I had to begin rebuilding.

Leaving a whole continent behind isn’t a casual choice. The catalyst to flea was not fear. It was necessity which pushed me into the flight mode. My wish and urge to build a solid foundation were greater than my fear of being homeless in another country.

Starting new, meant that I had to walk away from the ruins of myself. Interestingly enough I thought these pieces to be permanent and unchangeable. Little did I know.

While living in Europe I met people from around the world. These people repeatedly reminded me that I did not belong there. My life in Europe could not hold the person I was on the way of becoming. The ruins of Europe were not providing the materials for rebuilding a safe home.

After fleeing Europe, I found myself in a strange land, on a strange continent and surrounded by vultures. On my journey of rebuilding, I learned another imperative lesson. It was important to stop building the houses of others with my bricks. These bricks I bought, and I worked for, were mine to keep. No was the full sentence I had to use often. Discernment was to be the mortar holding the bricks together.

The important lesson I learned was to keep my "bricks and stop giving them to people who do not build houses with them." Generosity without discernment is like a house build without mortar or a strong foundation. I had to start by building a basement. I had to dig up bones and skeletons and sage the grounds.

A house without a solid foundation is meant to fall. A life without boundaries build on skeletons from the past does too. The home in my life today is the home which I have built within myself. It has a solid spiritually grounded foundation. No life quake can shake it, and no emotional storm can blow it away.

My resources are sacred to me, and I only invest into materials and people who create with me and use serenity, calmness and strength. My newfound generosity has the benefit to make generous giving sustainable, for myself and others. All others invited into my life are supporters and builders.

When I compare my life with a house today, then I can say that I have built a Log Cabin. Not flashy or pretentious. The life I built is a life of warmth and strong to withstand any storm. I chose my soul fire over spectacles and glitter.

Now, my life is the opposite of the life I once lead, made homeless by family and giving my bricks away. My life is intentional, intimate and deeply my own without the danger of onlookers and vultures.

My ache of yearning has become the blueprint of a piece of architecture. My wounds have become my design. My yearning for family turned into a potent force. Yearning functioned as a compass in the darkest night of my soul. The pain that I once numbed myself from became the force behind my creation. No longer lost but found I move forward and toward a vision greater than I could have imagined.

My life now has structure, creative insight and intention. For my new life I needed a drafting table called my mind. I also needed a set of measurements. My experiences were the measurements. My vision was my blueprint.

Today the architecture of my life is no longe about walls and boundaries. It is not about my own safety. It is about openness and love. My life is about that inner fire that makes all of it worthwhile. Around that fire people come together. People and warmth gather to tell stories of their own creations.

The fire of a home must be tended, or the entire home will lose its soul. The fire in my heart refused to go out no matter how vigorous the storm and quake. Thankfully I always protected the flame.

The fire in my heart does not consume, it nourishes. It is the kind of fire which does neither flicker nor go out when someone walks away from it. Today I know that it is my responsibility to tend to my fire within. I learned that I cannot let others feed the flame in my heart but that the heart has to feed the fire.

The seasons of stormy unsheltered yearning have been replaced with a steady flame. My fire's warmth and growth are from within, and its glow is self-sustained.

Stranger, friend or family can no longer strike a match to burn my structure down. I chose a steady flame over people's matches and fuel. My life, my new build strong foundation and center are rooted within the flames of my heart. The flames are fueled by love, wisely chosen generosity and kindness.

The flames in my heart can warm a home but cannot burn it down. I began to claim my life, reclaim my honor, my choices and most of all I have discernment for my surroundings and the people in it.

Moving forward steady my boundaries are movable. Grace is my lighter and strength and it holds my life structure together. Grace makes my inner architecture possible. Grace is the one element which holds the foundation up and strong. The moment I choose compassion over self-criticism my foundation became a form.

This year, I crossed a threshold. My private inner vision stopped and became an external structure. I am able to shop it to all and share it with a few. Today I am standing inside that once yearned for structure, surrounded by chosen family and friends.

What I created was once a dream but never a fantasy. It is the truth which I have lived. I have reclaimed my own center. The center which was almost lost to me, because I was forced to be homeless, by my own family, was not only a loss of shelter. It was a rupture in belonging, in safety, in the place where I was supposed to be safe.

Once upon a time pushed out of a home by my own mother also pushed me out of my inner self. It totally scattered my sense of self-worth and roots. My inner fire was lashing out in vicious licking tongues. However, after a fire burned almost everything there always comes a rebuilt.

I now no longer imagine the warmth anymore. I am living in it. I no longer yearn for family I am surrounded by chosen family. People who brought their own bricks and built their own structures.

My life was built from ashes. My story is my legend, my home my landmark. I regenerated by rising from the fiery remains of my predecessor, like a Phoenix. The flame once a blaze refused to be forgotten. It was necessary to immolate, to build anew.