So often I feel it easier to connect to my emotions and communicate through colors and sounds. I see myself and hear myself so much mor clearly in them. I experience so much more than I know there are words for.
At least when I do find the words… they anchor me… I suppose the beauty in this dynamic is there are times I don’t need or want to be anchored either.
We pay for wisdom with innocence.
May we come back around enough to not be jaded.
May we remember what it feels like to remain compassionate.
Every unturned rock within ourselves turned into a landmine for the other. we were trying to navigate through the explosions in real time. A hole within me became a bruising on you. A beating wound within you became scars on me.
I look back at the pictures and at first I see so much joy, longing piecing into each other… then just below that, waves and knots of pain, unraveling down deep into Marianas Trench… and somehow we found a point of connection down there too. Hearing each other’s echos… maybe that’s where we comforted each other most. Both hoping that we descended further to the core of the earth where maybe true, unconditional love was as pure as heat is organic there… Maybe that’s where we thought we’d meet. If we could just swim through the darkness more. But when I heard and you heard me were always at different levels. Ships passing in the night down there. I guess how could we have met we were broken differently, healing different wounds, swimming in different patterns with not enough tools to bring us to a point of common ground, empathy.
Something I know for sure though is that if we didn’t find the healthiest of love, there was love there. Twisted and gnarled and sad but it was. And that connection will never be forgotten. It lives.
Maybe I’ll be a sunflower.
54321. Go. Go go go go go. Do. Doing is good. Sustainability in the physical sense. Achieved.
Doing. Action. A performance.
I wonder… if a person is always performing, where does authenticity have room to grow? How does one perform and be genuine? If a person is always on… doesn’t it become a string of acts? A performance?
Acts of slowness. Solitude. Vulnerability and feeling. Just a ||. Does a person need time to confront the self, the one that is always going? Enough moments of not performing, and perhaps, a person can have the space – the energy – to be with their self. Say hello. Maybe enough of these moments can bring this other self closer to our doing selves so that in as many moments as possible, we are not just acting with intention, but wholesomely. Spiritually. Softly.
You saw it within me. Even admired it I think. But you didn’t how to hold it… and I didn’t know how to ask you to.
It will always know the tune to your melody. Even after the wildfires, miles, & time. Now it’s just from a different place.
I wish I was there with you. I found your hand when we started into the woods. Held it tight. Held it dearly. But I didn’t know you were running to the fall. I couldn’t pull myself from planting the roses I thought were for us. When I looked up you were gone. I ran and ran, tears and branches wiping my face. I followed the small voice I heard in the wind, out to the other side. It was your’s… calling from the bottom of the basin. You had already jumped, not realizing the only way down for me was if I went with you. I wish I had been there. I wish.
Sometimes I still think I hear you down there.
Been sipping on dreams and walking on broken glass
Been building wooden houses in my head just to burn them
Jumping from planet to planet in my own solar system
I didn’t realize I was laying stones all across the river to get across when the option to swim was always there. For a moment I ask myself “swim to where though? Do we ever really know?” But then I sense it doesn’t matter does it? Not as long as I go. I must go.