Between Us 

Rhythm. The sound of the heart beating life through the body.
Rushing. The blood pushes through the veins and vessels.
Reaction. The body functions as it is meant to. 
Silence. The moments in which the inner workings of the body are the most pronounced; every nuance can be felt at a magnitude that is otherwise impossible to detect. The silence speaks in this way; it speaks as the heart pumps, as the blood rushes, and as the organs and systems function without strain. This is peace. These are moments when the soul speaks to the body; tells it truths that otherwise are unable to be heard. Perfect stillness allows for all encompassing realization and acceptance. There are things to be heard, if only one finds the right moment to listen. 
I haven’t known peace for years. No, I was used to the utter turmoil that every moment had the potential to become. Every molecule in my body was set afire, threatened to be burned asunder by the disrupting battles that seemed to take place without pause. Negative sensory overload does not bide with peace or understanding. It only knows upheaval and chaos. 
What happens when the moment for peace finally does come? What is to follow?

 A quiet unlike I have ever known. The opportunity to just be; to exist without any force pulling in any one direction. The body performs, the soul is free, the mind is calm and uncluttered. The energy is free to move through clear space, passing smoothly from his skin to mine. 
I have come to know that people say many things; things they mean in all earnest but can never deliver on, things they say to be soothing or reassuring but without any truth behind them, and things that were meant in the moment but were forgotten shortly thereafter. They say many things, but I have learned to allow intuition to guide me based on what they do; how they perform, what their energy says to me, what their eyes are revealing, and how the silence between us feels. 
Words are powerful; but there is nothing more honest than the moments of quiet discovery where silence says what words cannot. And I listen with my whole body in these moments. They tell me everything I need to know. 
It is one thing to accept another person’s flaws or past. Of course these things are inevitable and are often the stones upon which our lives have been built, brick by brick, turning us into the individuals we are and are trying to become. In that way, they are important to be acknowledged.

But, it is another thing entirely when they are acknowledged, and yet are not given the weight of importance that they previously had been given. When they are reduced to merely the stones, rather than the foundation, there is freedom. When scars become just another feature of the skin, when true and terrible stories become memories without power, when there is congruent honesty in both words and movements, so then is there the great and insurmountable presence of peace between us. It comes without ceremony or announcement of its arrival; it comes merely as a gentle sigh, a small alignment of two bodies, a space in which there are no further needs or desires than to just be free to passively celebrate the equilibrium of the moment. 

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Thoughts on New Beginnings

 

New beginnings are about a lot of things. Mostly, though, they are about the moments to rise from the ashes of the past, see the world for what it is, and let go in order to let something else in.

The turning of the new year, for example, was more of a metaphor than anything else; my new beginning was born on a warm day in July, over six months ago, and I haven’t turned back since.

No. In fact, things have only become sweeter. Though there was suffering, I remained on my feet with a happy soul to cling to. Looking back over the last year, I realized every trial I came up against brought me further in my journey, prodded me back onto my path.

And now, here I am. And here is good place to be.

I realize, the more I go along, that it takes tremendous strength and courage to walk away from something that is not of my soul and to continue to walk on. But, the feeling that comes with it, the one that I wake up with everyday, is the validation that gives life its meaning. Knowing I am right where I am meant to be, regardless of what happens, is a freedom unlike any other. And this knowledge, coupled with a positive mentality, has made all the difference.

A Silent Battle

He:

What is she thinking?

The question pounds intermittently through my brain.

I’m looking at her, I see her, see her tiny movements that display great defense. She wont look at me. That’s never a good sign.

She asked me how I felt. I, stupidly, told her. And now, here we are; across the table from each other but might as well be 100 miles apart, across an ocean, or better yet, 1,000 leagues beneath the sea.

While she is slowly coming apart at the seams right in front of me, I’m desperately trying to reconcile with the truth and heavy weight of my own words.

God, I never meant to hurt her.

I wish she would just look at me. Goddamnit! Just look at me!

Hurting her, causing her any type of distress, was the last thing I ever wanted. She’s been through enough.

I just wish I could give her what she needs; wish more than anything that I could find that something we are both looking for. If only I could; I would hang on to it and never let it go.

Letting go: I guess that’s what we’re doing. Neither of us want to. It’s a fight; a fight between head and heart, between reality and romanticism.

She’s finally looking at me. Her eyes are portals to the truth. The truth of the situation has crippled both of our abilities for speech.

How did we end up here?

Her:

What am I going to do now? Silly question. I’ll do what I’ve always done and carry on. Somehow.

After everything having been so optimistic  and feeling so positive, how did we get ourselves into this conversation?

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

What is he saying anyway? Does he even know? Does he realize what his words tell me? That I’m not good enough, even on my best day.

But I am good enough. Or, I will be good enough. For someone, somewhere, someday.

I wish he knew how much he means to me; that he’s had a tremendous hand in helping me become a woman that I love to be.

You never know who the universe is going to bring you, and you never know how long they will stay, but they will leave something with you that will likely remain with you for the rest of your life. He most certainly will leave plenty of positives as a result of our chance meeting. I’m grateful for that. Because I will be OK.

I will.

In situations like these, honestly and respect are the two best things anyone can hope for. He afforded me both, and now I have to let him go.

I wish it could be different, but, deep down, he knows I’m not the one. And he deserves to find that person. And so do I.

Peace is sometimes hard to come by, but not with him. Not even now, where we are overturning everything we thought we knew.

Ausstrahlung

There is a word in the German language that, until recently,  I couldn’t quite define. More of a multifaceted feeling than a tangible element, Ausstrahlung can be defined quite beautifully and accurately by Roald Dahl’s astute definition.

This is both my favorite word as well as my favorite feeling. It is the “qua”, the something, that is undefinable yet unmistakable. It is the light, the radiance, that shines out from within. And that, my friends, is true beauty.

The Power to Be Moved

On a beautiful day in July, 2016, I found myself in a place of dynamic solitude; a place that I often had come to when I had been much younger and was distraught over whatever stumbling block life had placed before me. As I sat, contentment in my heart and peace in my soul, the words came to me as gently yet as assertive as a gentle wind. There, on that rock above a modest waterfall, with these words, a perspective that would forever change me was created:

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When Life Gives You (Moldy) Lemons 

Monday’s, especially the morning of, usually make the shit list for a lot of people. It’s an interesting, fairly understandable social phenomenon that usually makes me try all the more to make the start of the week a positive one for both myself and the people with whom I come into contact.

This particular Monday morning, however, had me feeling sour, dour, and otherwise unenthused about the coming week. Here’s why.

That word ‘rejection’: we’re all familiar with it, know it intimately in some facets of our lives to be sure. Well, (and here I am going to do something that I will try very hard to refrain from doing in the future) to generalize, anyone who has been out and about looking for a career–or job of any kind for that matter–may have noticed that this process is laced with rejection. The silent kind where one hears absolutely nothing after sending an application or having an interview, the flippant and generic email informing that the position has already been filled, or (my personal favorite) the formal letter that comes in the mail in a standard-sized envelope, which already tells you everything you need to know before you open it.

Additionally, of course, there’s always the unavoidable and somehow inescapable rejection of the dating world. Finding that balance of how much to put out there, what to say to be honest yet intriguing, and when to run for your life is not the easiest of feats by any means. And, often enough, you think you nailed it and still end up being ghosted, dumped, or given some bullshit line.

It’s all rejection. And it all finds its target to some extent or another.

So, this morning, while being fed up, frustrated, and quite frankly on the verge of either crying and refusing to stop, or finding some cave I could curl into and, thus, take a hiatus from life, I somehow managed to throw myself a private dance party, which, in turn, gave my blood enough of a rush for me to step back from the morose alley my brains and heart had been hanging around in. I sat down with my notebook, stared at the page for awhile, wrote something acutely depressing on one page, and then realized that I was doing nothing and nobody any good by being a defeatist. In a literal burst of inspiration that came out of some optimistic sliver of my mind, my hand began to scrawl something meaningful across the page. That’s kind of how it happens for me: I get going on something without being certain of where it will lead me until I’ve finished. What I ended up with was something that I was not only proud of, but I also believed it with all my heart and thought it might do a few people a little bit of good to read it as well.

And here we are.

I also realized, during the day (which continued to produce a roller coaster of emotions), that my art, my writing, is something that I would like to share. Not for my benefit so much as for a means to connect to others. Producing something that may speak to or touch just one single person is where it’s at for me. After all, who says Art can’t change a life?

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