St. Elmo's little something...

many moons ago...

I've always wanted to begin a post that way.
This topic can handle the joshing.
I mean, seriously, I'm not a child anymore.
Still, some experiences remind me of my youth.
Not the the parts that hurt, no, no. I have left most of that behind.
Can't carry it forever.
There just isn't enough luggage, anyway.

I am wrestling with raw ambition.
On Tuesday, I passed my National exam for Massage Therapy, and finished something that I began.

I finished.
It feels like the day I wrapped up the writing of my book, only a little different.
This satisfaction is all sweet.
The finishing of my book...a different happy, a different satisfaction.
A different completion.

On Tuesday, I just knew... a rush of excitement came over me, almost like orgasm, and I swear I couldn't stop the big, Cheshire cat grin from taking possession of my face. I cried happy tears. And, this sexy smile just won't leave.
I'm enjoying it.

I connected, I persisted, I believed, I matured,
I forced the issue. I lit the pilot light on my St. Elmo ambition.
The relief is still spreading through my limbs.

Two nights before taking the test, I took a drive with my daughter up the famous scenic A1A. I chose Linton Blvd. in Boca Raton, as our starting point. We continued through the Island of Palm Beach, ending our ride over the bridge- where the rest of us live, in downtown West Palm Beach.

A song that I haven't heard in years began to play on the radio. I made the hand gesture to my daughter that signifies please don't change the station. The song St. Elmo's Fire played good and true over the sound system. My God, I was a young woman of 15 when this movie was a ridiculous success, despite
being panned by the critics.
It is a cult classic for my generation X.
I listen through to the end
of the song, and found myself caught
inside the swirling emotions of my
vaulting adolescent ambition.

I was going to be the one in my family
to do something great, to make good,
to be a somebody.
I listened to this song everyday- for years.
It was an anthem of escape.
I took it's message of exploding hope-
wrapped around hard work, as my definition of self.

I was a climber, an opportunist,
and very, very talented.
I was also a train wreck waiting to happen.

It doesn't matter why it took me so long to come into my own.
The story is long and tinged with shame, unfairness...life.

Wikipedia defines St. Elmo's fire as:
an electrical weather phenomenon in which luminous plasma is created by a coronal discharge originating from a grounded object in an atmospheric electric field (such as those generated by thunderstorms or thunderstorms created by a volcanic explosion).

St. Elmo's fire is named after St. Erasmus of Formiae (also called St. Elmo), the patron saint of sailors. The phenomenon sometimes appeared on ships at sea during thunderstorms, and was regarded by sailors with superstitious awe, accounting for the name. Alternatively, Peter Gonzalez is said to be the St. Elmo after whom St. Elmo's fire has its name.

After listening, my lovely teenage daughter looked at me and said-dripping with sarcasm "I am just overcome with inspiration"
I roared in laughter. How could I not? She proceeded to find a song "from this century"- as she calls it. I looked over at her. I could see her wonder over me. I knew she could feel me wondering over her. We blissfully ignored the questions that lingered in the space between us. Questions that will be asked and answered, another time.

I pulled into my driveway believing I could pass
the test. Two days later, I did.
Finally coming to a tempered peace with the girl I used to be. The one who knew without a doubt she would make it, make a difference, be a somebody, make good...escape.

I can let it all go now.
What matters now is moving forward,
beginning again, with the pilot light on.
It's never to late. What a amazing revelation.
Kinda like the phenomenon of St. Elmo's fire.
Inspiration, indeed.

-Renee