Once in a while I try something I’m not too practiced in and then I let myself fail many times until something good and beautiful comes of it. Here is my little bit of beauty.
There is strength in knowing that you’ve traveled far and true in the realms of what it means to be a human in hurt. There’s a certain relief at the resignation of knowing that the Earth will continue to orbit around a sun that has yet to burn out for eons to come. There is purity in knowing that the wind can quell your sorrows and place your anxieties to sleep if you give it that power. There is a cleansing in cold rain drenching your clothes in a downpour if you lend your muscles to the power of nature so that they may relax. No matter what tribulations you journey through remember that your heart is still beating with the hum of the Earth and your breath inundates your lungs like a transparent and active ocean.
Underneath the full moon I muster all the strength required of oceans to swish into shores in darkness. The sands by my feet are velvet as my night-lantern guides me from the sky. Goddess power flows through outstretched hands, permeating the salt crystals in the air. My skin glistens with dew and light and within me a light shines outward. A third eye opens and looks steadily into the shadows cast by the moonlight and within me courses knowledge of secret enchantments long-quieted by witches securing the secret of their craft. They tell me know the things I must know. The shadows come into light—moon goddess.
Always ask for more and maybe you will receive your hopes and dreams with open arms. Ask for depth and perhaps you will become an ocean full of life and cycles. Seek new heights and you might be like the moon in her godlike trance and slow transitivity. Just ask and maybe you will receive.
The only thing that anchors me to small islands is the pleasure of the waves. In fact, it’s often easy to swim offshore until the ripples of the water lure me back to land, but small islands don’t fill large souls and they are insufficient and emptying. I have always been a creature of the water—free flowing and cool to the touch. With each passing day, I’m more at ease as I swim out a little farther each time. Soon small islands will fade into the horizon and I will swim to new shores or perhaps I’ll reach depths previously untraveled and will dwell in its hypnotic embrace.
I am roaming through the sand dunes and the ocean sways behind me, hungrily, awaiting my return to its watery carpet. Yet small grasses precede taller stalks with tiny buttons of pink and yellow slightly showing their heads as birds above bellow. Warm sand covets my feet while rays of sun kiss my shoulders waiting for me to enter into the water’s splendor. The sea foam twinkles in the breeze like evening stars on a blue and moving backdrop extending as far as my eyes will take me. I lay in the shallows with the sun beaming down on me as my head is crowned with a halo of salt crystals in water. Yellow and olive are the ocean flowers adorning my crown with a ring of spiritual power.
I did my best to remind her to run forward without looking back lest tribulations would sneak up on her in the form of lifted roots—in a forest of experience I have stumbled before. I looked into her eyes as she picked herself up and gave her all the strength I could muster. “You be smart not to fall again,” I told her as I held her pretty face in my hands as she nodded. Then came a cliff against the waters, we grasped hands and smiled—being together is all that mattered.
I’ve been thinking about what it means to love free of fear and of the little lies we tell ourselves to feel a bit better. I have been thinking about love not only as a form of sharing a union with a kindred spirit that ignites you, but also what it means to love yourself in a way that does not necessitate the love of another to keep your flame burning. The hardest part, I’ve found, is to be in the space between being loved by another and giving love to yourself. I say this because while I recognize that others temporarily ignite my flame and reignite it with each pleasant pleasurable experience there is still a consistent effort that must be provided by said individual.
So, what happens when they can no longer love us the way we expected them to, the way we conditioned ourselves to need to be loved? Here is where the self should have said, “it’s okay for I have been here all along and I have given you the love you so desired, the love your brain so needed this entire time.” What happens when our inner voice is silent, and our body is left wanting to be held? How do you curve this addiction that I call “love” if it is even that?
I’m starting to hate this word, kind of how I hate the word happiness since it is only an umbrella concept for pleasant feelings/experiences that are complicated. It’s like the friend in the group project that does nothing, but still graduates at the top of the class, not necessarily because of their contributions, but because they’d just worked the system in a way that has allowed them to take credit for that which they did not truly do. Maybe what the self needs is to be affectionate, to be compassionate, to be adventurous with itself. That is what I need to do if I am to foster love from within, otherwise I will continue to seek it from the outside. It is not worth cultivating a field of flowers when you are starving unless those flowers have a lot of nutritional value and will fill your stomach.
In life there is supposed to be more than “love”, there is supposed to be LIFE. The scary parts are necessary to live and to become stronger—they will force you to give yourself what you need with the hopes that you’ll always heed that lesson. The scary parts involve being alone, without affection, without another warm body in the room next to you to the point that the entire world feels cold and empty. The loneliness is a drowning feeling that brings you down to the greatest depths with no knowledge of which way is up or down as all there is around you is darkness, but if you release just a small bit of air and hold your hand up to the bubbles, you will know if you are going in the right direction when they rise.
This brings me back to the point of love… When you are devoid of “love” and you have no sense of direction, start by releasing a few air bubbles and see the direction that they take. Start with one of the components of “love”, that annoying group member that contributes minimally to the finished product consisting of thousands of moving parts.
To love is to express:
- And so much more…
The disappointment comes in waves when I think of a past lover who was so good at wrecking my ship while out at sea. He wrote songs that resonated as my vessel sunk into deep cool water while all lifeboats cracked in two. Still, his siren song were sung and the cool light of the sun bore down on me drowning my sight as my lungs filled with water. My vessel is now a mountain underneath the sea.
May these brown eyes melt in sun
Melt down to pools of gold
The treasure they seek
Hidden in this vessel’s hold.
And may they in oceans sink
Like shipwrecks close to shore
Always to be seen
And soon to become lore.