“Have you been writing?”,
“I was just thinking of your writing, have you been writing?”,
“I really love your writing”,
Writing Writing Importance of Writing, “I’ve been writing”, “I’m really excited for what I’ve been writing”…
In the space of two days I’ve had this bombarded to me.
The first sound of the bell was at the beginning of the week. “You have to have to let me read what you’ve written”.
The truth is.
My mind is blank.
The truth is.
The pages of my journal ran out.
These past months I’ve felt the utmost importance of rereading what I have written. In past years, in classes, in Thailand.
However I also noticed that after a week of not actively writing I was going mad.
So I understood. I work in cycles.
That’s the thing with this time.
I’m learning so much. About myself. Truly. The nitty gritty. The real ugly. Diving down deeper and deeper and deeper.
Something I heard on a podcast last semester has really stuck with me in thinking of my time in college and in thinking of my life’s path: sometimes, you are put in situations, an environment that makes things come out of you. It is a sort of purging. The things that come up are just crap. But their surfacing can confuse you and you mistake what you are with what is being purged, what is surrounding you. You get through it though. And you are more truly you.
I skyped with a friend last night. Just being in interaction with her presence was good. She’s excited about her “30 days of vulnerability”.
Right now. I’ve been having thoughts. Things I can’t even call fears. Just weights of darkness that bury me.
My mind and heart and soul are seeded in so many places, so many thoughts, so many ideas, so many dreams. I’ve said I’m being stretched across continents and am immobilized. I feel it’s more than that. It’s like white creamy silk material that is somehow fleshy, somehow weighted but not heavy, that has been TPd across the Universe, the earth, the feelings. It is not distended, tightened, it’s just floating like a huge bounce castle structure.
When I sit to think of it, my throat swells. It is beautiful. I know.
Is it of this world I am tempted to ask?
But the pain is more than that.
The pain is in the flaccidity of the very thing. “Are you good enough?” “Can you fly high enough?” “Is your only capability the beauty of your existence?”
I see beauty and value in every atom of this World. Right now. There is a heart wrenching pain of … presence. I can’t ask “where shall I go?”, “what should I do?”…
How do we SEE when our intention is being accomplished?
How do we RECOGNIZE
I would say I’m scared. But I don’t think that fear labels this.
I would say I’m saturated. But I wouldn’t know from what.
I would say I need to go. But I feel I need to stay.
I would make my lips curl into a smile. And my mind wanders down to my heart, knocking on the door. Waiting in silence.
Isn’t just patience.
It’s holding fast to Hope, to Excitement for now and up ahead, it is vibrancy and farsightedness.
It’s trust. Obviously.
And not just one day. EVERY
That humans are forgetful.
Humans need maintenance.
At least I do.
I have one seed in my mind that can bring great things but if I want the whole harvest I seriously need to keep on plowing keep on plowing keep on plowing.
And in those moments. When your heart burns. To somehow find the space, find the opening, find the time; to tap in, to let that door of your crazy heart creak open and for your all to embrace it and let it fall.
It doesn’t have to make sense. At least not the way you’ve been taught and told.
It has to make Love.
Love yourself as you love your neighbor baby.