I wonder what can be done

To make it all a bit easier.

In the space deep beneath the earth. I sit and I wonder. My fingers type upon these keys, laying stories and poems and verses. Yet still I simply watch. Observe as if I were outside fo my body. A body that is all my own, something I have entirely for this life, yet still I stand back. Drowning in social media and videos and swiping. Nothing important, only noise. It filled my head. It blocked out the signals to stop, to rest, to recharge, to sleep, to breathe. It filled me and overflowed, until my thoughts were no longer my own. I smoked, I read, yet still I sit here and let these phantom hands type for me. In this space of creation, I seem to know nothing of myself, nothing of who I once was or who I am to become, simply an abyss floating through the great void of what I’m told is this life.

The winds outside the open window beside me blow and breathe me back into something, some semblance of myself. Some form of me at the center. A message comes through, a reminder that I am here and I am someone. I am someone. Out there, I am also someone’s someone, second to none.

Second to none.

And I wonder what can be done.

You are supported and you know it,

Your heart has grown and you show it.

The starting of some song that may never be sung, just strung together, tighter, stronger, we are with one another.

Slowly, I find my way back to myself. I look ahead, I see some passageway through this dark and desolate place. Why did I get so wrapped up in all that could be? Why didn’t I see what is already right there in front of me? And still I question, what can be done? What is this all for? Why keep going? Yearning? Fighting? Believing?

What is it truly all for?

For someone to like me? Love me? Show me that I know myself fully? I can give these things to myself already, yes yes yes this I know, yet why? And why do I always keep on questioning? Why do I hold myself back as if I am not at the center of this game.

I tattooed the High Priestess on someone’s leg today. I thought it looked well enough after just the red and the black were inked upon her skin. Fewer and fewer prayers poured through this time, our voices and laughter filling the space in its wake. “Don’t take everything so seriously,” this life is meant to be filled with learning and deep belly laughs and exploration. This life is here to be lived, I know it, yet still the answers to these questions eluded us. Why keep on asking? Why not just submit to the machine at large? Why keep on trying?

I keep wondering what it is all for. I drove home, music finally filling the vehicle, windows down. My cat crawls upon my shoulders telling me to go to bed. Maybe I will get more sleep tonight, maybe I will dream something that will make it all come together. I know that change is here. It shines through the lighting and the swaying of the willows’ branches within the bursts of wind. It shares itself like the calls of a bird in the early mornings and the smell of patchouli in my shower. Change is here and I ride its waves like a duck upon the tide.

The cat has crawled out of the open window now. I create something here, I know it is all worth something in the end, this keeping on, this continual return to something greater, this power that flows within my blood and my breath and my soul. This fire that burns up the night sky. My incessant urge, this curse to not end it all too soon. This instinctual and unrelenting truth that death will not claim me until I am ready, the one thing that I cannot control, the one thing, one of the many things that we truly have no say over unless we take it upon ourselves with our own hands to end it all.

So tired, so damn tired, and just wanting it all to be done. I can write, I can sing as I drive to work, I can swim in the lake and eat an elote pastry, I can pack my bag for a trip with my friends, I can push myself as I run through the sun-filled mornings, I can watch videos and stay up late into the night, I can try, and I keep on trying, and I don’t give up and it’s never ceasing and I wonder still, what is it all for.

This fire and this flame and this burning spirit within me. This chip in my head, this drive to keep learning, these discussions, this grounding, this force to keep me balanced. I am near my tipping point and once I fall over I don’t know if I will be able to rise again, yet I also know that even if I have to crawl and beg and go forth on my hands and knees I will not cease to return to this place of all knowingness, to this sacred drop point of understanding. So serious and so delicious and so entirely full of shadows and depth and clarity and brightness. The richest.

The wind licks my legs and my cat nuzzles me as he stands on my knee. This is what it’s for I guess. To experience this life with him, to hear his purrs and to feel the change that stirs and to hear how the trees sing through their leaves clattering together. It’s together I guess, it’s something about doing it all together, yet without the need for performance, or looks or appearance or anything of that sort of concoction. It’s only about heart, and ground and earth and depth and riding the waves of intensity and finding the breath. And then breathing, and falling back, and releasing, and receiving and finally knowing and remembering again that I am not alone, and I have never been, and I remember your face again and I hear your call in the sounds between noise and the crickets that chirp and buzz. It’s finding this way again, to clarity, to the light again, to peace again, to hope again. Always back to hope, to hope of a better world where we do not need to force but we instead allow gentle paws to guide our pause. And rest in the depths of the endless dark.