Not The Philosopher's Porsche

“You’re not being honest.” says my son as I’m sharing a story at dinner.

Surprised, I quickly react, What do you mean I’m not being honest? I feel like what I’m saying is true.

“Oh you’re honest, but you can be more honest.” he responds.

That summer night, this core-trembling truth (among others) was added to the inconsolable despair I had been feeling for years.

My child can see that I’m not being authentic.

Fuck. That’s painful.

What I’m sharing on the surface is true, yet there’s more,

and he sees it.

This memory came to my mind/body a few days ago as I wrote, “Where’s the end of the road?”

And I want to be more honest about what that piece was about.

It was about this porsche.

The Philosopher’s Porsche.

I had seen the car in a dream about my marriage. It symbolized adventure.

A few years later - my then husband bought it for me for my birthday. Big red bow and all.

When the mechanics went to do a couple things to get the car road certified, we got the call. You might want to come in.

The windshield needs to be removed to fix something he said. And if we do that, 99% chance it will break and will need to be replaced. Oh and take a look here…. It’s all rust and corrosion underneath this shinny surface.

Do you want to fix it to drive it or restore it to a greater state of beauty?

So the road to fully restoring the car began.

Landing at a tiny auto body shop called Cambridge Collison as the first step, I meet Manny - a car & bike artist.

The car is hers, my ex says to him.

He’s surprised.

I say to him I saw it in a dream and here it is.

He goes on to share a story of a bird that came to him after his father’s death.

I walked out of that encounter with a deep knowing that this porsche had something to do with the adventure of encounters such as this one with Manny.

I set up The Philosopher’s Porsche blog so that I could write about the process and I couldn’t get past feeling frozen in my expression for over a year until a week after my husband told me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. It was the end of marriage,

All of the sudden, words began to flow.

I needed to write for my own healing.

A couple months ago I reached a point in my healing where I could feel my sense of creativity emerging.

Sitting in my backyard alone the weeks my son is with his dad, I watched a mama bird tend to her nest…. Day by day.

Until one day I could hear the baby bird.

I thought of Manny and his story.

I thought about my porsche, Grace.

I had seen images on Instagram that inspired me to want to take a different direction with the car so I checked in with the upholster Devon to see if he could bring these ideas to life. We talked about listening to the car when she came in. We felt into collaborating with a local artist to tattoo the name I gave her somewhere on her body.

Out of respect, I told my ex I’d like to complete the car without him.

His answer was no. Together or he’ll deliver the car to me complete.

I reflected and sent another message sharing more honestly about my desire to create new meaning for my car and how this for me means doing it without him. For me the journey is about communion with creation.

Over the past year I’ve learned that my creativity is much like my orgasms. Without welcoming my whole self, all emotions, all perceptions, my whole body - it’s shallow, temporary, rigid, unsatisfying and sometimes all together non-existent.

His answer was no, that I would get the car the end of August.

It’s Not The Philosopher’s Porsche after all.

I have heard that a Spartan warrior goes to war with his sword and shield. If he dies in battle, he’s buried with his shield. I learned that they do this so the soldier remembers that although he is fighting, his first job is to protect and losing his sword before he loses his shield is a demonstration that he had his priorities straight. Being buried with their shield is honouring this devotion.

I share this with you today because I think that sometimes we get so busy fighting that we forget to start with protecting our hearts, protecting what really matters to us.

That letting go of the Porsche for me was protecting my heart, my creative nature that has become so precious to me, protecting the sanctity of my healing process.

It’s Not The Philosopher’s Porsche after all.

It’s not clear to me if it’s the end of the road for me and Grace (that’s her name) but it feels so out of integrity for me to say this is my porsche when it’s really not.

Maybe it will be at the end of August, I don’t know.

I appreciate all if you so much for being on this journey with me as I learn to be more of me.

I hope it inspires you to look inside and make the hard choices to protect what matters most to you by being more honest, with yourself and others. Our culture makes this difficult, it’s not just you. You’re not alone.

“The way of love is never simple, or easy.” - Rainier Wylde

With Deep Love + Reverence,

Billy