I Am Bravely Transforming

I Am Bravely Transforming

Seven months. That is when my heart broke open and took on a new level of healing. I was sitting on the cold February sand next to the ocean seven months after I sat with his body waiting for the police to arrive. I used a black pen even though my favorite was purple and I also had green, pink, orange, or blue to choose from. It was the first page I wrote in black in the first journal to see pages filled beyond the first five. The first five sentences read:

“Shells =
Pain of the lesson learned.
Release the pain.
Keep the knowledge.
Keep the lesson.
Keep the love.”

I didn’t recognize my own hand as the words flowed from the pen. I’d never thought of black as the color of wisdom. I’d barely written in any other journal anything more profound than a calorie list. The wisdom continued a little further down the page.

“Negative space to the left/west =
endless possibility
natural limits
fluid limits
Anything I want.
Unwritten future.
Place to write my own future.”

I dared the wisdom to continue.

“Guilt frond =
I wanted to save him so bad
because I was still saving myself.”

I stared at the ocean for what seemed like an eternity with tears streaming down my cheeks as though they could wash away the sight of his blood tears etched into my memory.

Just over halfway down the page:

“Words have power.
I AM NOT INSIGNIFICANT [in all caps underlined and overlined]
I affect people around me.
positively and negatively.
Be mindful.
Speak with intent.
Recognize when I am speaking to someone else
and when I am actually speaking to myself.”

More tears. More waves. More wind. Then the last line of the page.

“The shape of my sand painting border is a heart
with a spear through it.”

The next pages returned to colorful inks and insights. Before I left the beach I returned to my perch at the ocean’s edge with the Black Pen of Wisdom.

“Balance. Bravery.
Bravery to balance the transformations
brought on by life and by death.
Phoenix Rising from the ashes.
Burning fire is cleansing.
The seed to flower is birth, rebirth, growth.
The spear is the pain. The growing pain.
Balancing the pain so that it doesn’t cut so deep of wounds.”

The last black line was the largest yet, completely capitalized, and underlined for good measure.


I continued to watch the ocean until the sun set and it was time for dinner.

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