I yearn
I yearn to create and to never stop. To feel and to feel and to feel and to never stop feeling and to never stop breathing and to never stop knowing and expiecning the magic and the wonder the the wildness of this life, I yearn to love and to love fully and deeply and widely and wholly. I yearn to understand and to explore and to also not know and to be amazed through the eyes of innocence. To be curious, to be wise, to feel at peace and at home within myself. I intend to live whole and well and full and true.
I notice how parts of me seek to venture off, to fracture and to break away.
“And then the rain starts falling, just to make you feel at home”, a song plays in my head over and over again and I lean into the groove of it. A prayer, an ask of consciousness, a desire for presence and awakened knowing, all buzzwords for the sleeping mind, yet to the aware self, the one who has pulled her head out of the water to bask in the sun, she understands. The awakened awareness just means the breathing. The living of the heart, the feeling of the body.
An ask and a prayer to bring tears home, to crack the heart open once again for all the cards that I have pulled lead me back to you, that space within my chest, the venture off and into the unknown, the abyss. To share and to share and to share without holding back, without falter, without fear, knowing that the scene has been set, the intentions have been invoked, so why not just share? Why not breath and feel and speak and listen and speak and share and breathe? Why not let the animal of my body be soft as the poems always say? I am a writer, I am an artist, I am a poet and a creator and a conscious being, so why not live from the heart? Why not let it ring itself out and breathe itself clear? For we always know that on the other side of feeling is that kinda soul clarity, that understanding that goes deep to the bottoms of my individual cells, the synapses of my brain fire and connect in new orgasmic ways, the edges of my nerves. It reaches the parts of my body that my mind cannot extend to, for it’s simply felt, the heart and soul bring me there, they surrender me in like lowering me down on a plank into the water. Ready to let the waves just take me.
“You’re not the water Annika, you’re not the water” I extend out onto my own plank to speak the words, to share what was spoken back to me, a death of my own design. Is that what I continually do? This great scorpionic stellium of mind, breaking me off, the death of the limbs of axolotls always grow back, is this what I inflict upon myself? Death after death after death after death? To keep coming closer to some core, some understanding that I can actually feel? Something inside that keeps me moving forward, keeps me yearning, keeping the desire hot and alive, for what else is it for? If I cannot feel, if I cannot feel what it truly is like to be alive, to feel God, to feel the earth, to feel the love, my friends, the warmth of hugs and the essence of a flower, the power of an old linden tree, what is it all for then? If I cannot feel you, then what am I really living for? What is here to tether me if not just my body? And when that is gone there will be nothing left. Death will come for me and I will let it in, and until then, what’s it for?
I can exercise, I can eat, I can pray, I can sleep. I can dream and oh how I dream, yet when I wake, what motivates me? There is some force driving me forward. Something that keeps me healthy and well and clean and safe. Alive and upright and with intention, yet that is not really living. That is simply the essence of this world of form. It makes those around me feel comfortable and well. That is something I have seemingly mastered for I know how to do it all. Some days better than others, yet I have it down to some degree. Yet that is only something of the base, that is not the essence of why we are here, it is just the start of it all. To remain trapped in such spaces, of emotions and thoughts and real worldly things feels oh so important at times when they pull me to the surface yet my bigger questions beg to make me understand something greater, something more, something wider. What is it all for? Because I may as well just fall of the face of the earth if this is all there is.
I can practice gratitude, and this I try and do. It brings me back to my body. To rings me back to my heart. The parts of me that tried to fracture off slowly come back and home. And my heart yearns to be felt, yet I know that this is how she speaks this is how she talks to me, through the creations of my hands and the words of my soul. I do not wish to leave any part of me behind, I do not wish to kill off any part of me, for I know that the cells and the hairs and the parts that are in need of death simply find it themselves, they find it in their own time and in their own natural course and rhythm. I do not wish to actively be the killer of myself, of any part of me. Of any part of others. I simply wish to just be and to observe and to feel.
I do wish to live though, and I do wish to feel, I wish to open my heart wide in all of my experiences, I wish to let more love in. I wish to just be, a presence of peace and a pillar of unwavering strength, the soft kind that simply comes in through a trusting and surrendered heart. The gentle strength that cannot be torn down for it is cultivated and tender, and tended like a fire yet an everlasting kinda flame, it cannot be broken down just simply expanded upon. This is the kinda love that I wish to be, and so it is and so I am. And from this space it shall all unfold.
