As of Late

On Love

I have been so lucky to know a love I don’t have to name. One that comes and flows between me and others so naturally I forget it’s there, or what to call it, how to remember it. Because to remember it is to stop and pause, to think this is off or irregular. I have beyond a fortunate normalcy. 

On Lack

Things happen when they are left to breathe with what they are. I think that’s the case. Cause when I suffocate over what I want, breathe myself into it, breathe in the energy of lack, nothing comes. Each thing is its own, as I am, and why would it stick to what is missing? Energy wants what is full and there, and when I am just that, I find more things come to me. 

On Travel

The way of life outside of what I know is so vast I can’t even comprehend it. But I never tried, because I was too caught up in this and that, in class schedules and rude comments and overpriced tea. How has there always been this much more?

On Reasons

You have the choice to believe it will if it hasn’t or fear that is has when it might not. 

On Letting Go

Letting go sounds so pretty; like a deep exhale at the end of a candle-lit yoga class. Easy as that too! Pay for your class, 1, 2, 3, release. But where does it go then? Well then, it’s in the air flying around as a loose plastic bag does. And as those always seem to do, it comes back. One way or another, that bag will end up in my lawn, hanging from a tree branch, or wrapped around my head. For letting go is not that easy or that pretty. It is how I imagine getting trapped in a vat of honey would feel, having to pick layer by layer off until you’re clean, but cleanness only meaning nothing visible. The sticky feeling lingers, acting as a whole nother process of removal. I have to let myself be ugly in letting go.

On Permanence

Permanence is only safe. It isn’t freeing. What is freeing is knowing fragility. Keeping the door of your heart open for things to walk in and out as they please. It has its cons of course, as everything does, but there is something about being this way—it makes one able to love completely wholeheartedly. Without fear, loathing, or regret. Loving what is until it isn’t, because there is nothing more we can do.

On Fear

Really there is fear in our veins. Running along with blood, with tangents. You only need to run a little bit faster. So then, fear can catch you when it needs to, but you don’t have to wilt in its shadow.

On Dreams

We have forgotten how to have good dreams—spirited from the most eccentric parts of our imagination and nurtured by the deepest part of our souls. We settle for cheap ones instead, things that can go easily broken. But it is an art form we have lost now; the ability to truly believe and see our greatest desire. What do we see instead? Well, we barely see over our desks.

On Change

What we know is what we are comfortable with. Change brings us out of this, so no matter how good the change is the very feeling it brings is of absurdity. Because it isn’t ours and we can’t control it quite yet. Change puts secrets between us and tomorrow, but how easily that itself changes is what’s fascinating. The absurdity which might have been horrible and drastic becomes passive and routine. What is passive and routine then becomes something we can predict, and so we are no longer unstable. If you can only see it through, accept the body’s adjustment period before making a judgement, then change isn’t so scary. It’s only a common cold. Take your NyQuil, eat your favorite soup, and wait tell it passes to get back on your feet.

On Being Alone

I like being alone. I need to be alone. I can be alone; all these statements are different. Because what you can do is different from what you like doing, and both of those can be different from you need to do. People are usually comfortable with one or the other. Liking solitude but being scared to say you need it. Needing solitude but not liking that fact. Being so solitary because you can, you don’t like or need it anymore. There is a balance of being alone. One of stilts and stumbles; a desire, need, and ability. And when they all mesh you finally have the greatest gift of all—a friend in your head.

On Choices

There are always doors, two or sometimes more. It is tempting to try and wedge them open first, before going through. I mean it makes sense. Humans want options with guarantees, purchases with returns. Yet, when that is where our energy goes we spend more time contorted than expanded. It is hard to scrunch up and peer carefully. It is easy to walk fluidly and exist freely. If we can just confidently trust, choose a door and leave the other, then perhaps life won’t feel so confining. What if’s make you small. What is makes you limitless.