Looking back on all the times we spent together

Wont you be my lover. Won’t you be my lover. Another wave has hit and it came from behind this time. It is a thick wall of feeing and it comes from the inside like the sort of tidal thing that wishes to bring me to my knees. The heart feels like it could grow sore for all the work it does day in and day out, the feeling to feeling to feeling again.

I stood within the embrace of my parents fields. What it is that they have felt, endured, created, learned. And in this space I was safe for some time. Safe to venture out, safe to feel within the breadth of something warm that encapsulated me in understanding. In compassion. In love without exception. In new cookbooks and sharing leftovers. They held me in the space of “it’s all okay, we know who you are to your core” when the thoughts and the words felt immense and strange and like being strangled. Pulled down down down. How could i ever make amends for the pain that those who have come before me have caused? How can I ever make amends for the pain I have unconsciously perpetuated? When everything seems to be built upon the torture and dehumanization of another, can I really just read about it and be done? Put myself back in school, lock myself back up until I am once again healed. Until I know enough or have coated myself in enough layers of pain to be fit enough to understand. Of paint and words and songs and stories. Listening to the voices of those around. Those who have not yet been listened too. Those who now wish for me to hear.

ho'oponopono

A friend came to me, and how I listened. How does anyone stay sober within this culture? Within this society? Within the years and eons of suffering. How do we stay open, stay loving, stay light and joyous and full of hope? If all of earth comes from a violent past, how can we ever think or begin to make something new, something different, something beyond. Something that doesn’t escape from the pain but goes straight through it knowing it as a tool to understand. A tool to see and feel. To live the light. Yet when inside it? When held down by the grips of death, when underneath the body of a corpse that cannot move until it has tasted your innocence, striped it from you like a leech needing blood, how can we see through? How do we know the love, how do we see the light, how do we feel the warmth and know that there is another side?

I tell myself that it comes from within. For that’s the only way. The dive out, the coming back in. I was made to feel my way through this world. Through this experience and feel it fully. I made myself to be this way from before the time I was born, so blame cannot be pointed upon anyone but my knowingness of something more. Some reason why. Some understanding beyond understanding. To communicate through the walls of space and time, to love without reservation. To know and live in love because I can feel it inside. Like falling back into myself. It’s steady and it’s strong and it’s eternally here to support me. To hold me, to guide me through. Guide me on home.

Am I guilty for having all that I have without a consistent stream of gratitude? When so many around me have so little, like a Queen up in a castle, I wish to give the skin off my back if I could yet how can I without going under? Without giving until there is nothing left, giving so I no longer have to even exist. Sink below the carpet and dissolve into the abyss. Always more that I can do, always more that I can pull forth, always more that I can offer. How can I change the world? How can I make things better? My heart contracts to one day expand, and why can’t it all just be ok?

I sink low to let you know that you’re not alone and that I feel it too. No one above me and no one below. I see you, I know you, I understand and we will see this through.

Can love be formed from a place so deep? A car drives by with the license plate: “no” and from here this is my answer. But what if I feel it, what if love is here eternally. What if it needn’t be formed but simply is. It exists in this space because I choose to hold it close. It is here because I have decided to be its witness. It’s experiencer, the one who cultivates it from a decision to see it through. To get to the end of the chess game so that you may know that you never have to play alone again and to be steady by your side: love will find you and you will feel it full again. Trusting and at home again.

Maybe I simply sit back and let it unfold or I hold close to my heart for another hour. Maybe I go for a walk. What a luxury it is to be able to move around so freely. The force is strong and so too is the force of understanding. The force of love without limits and healing within connection and a depth of soul that may reach the very bottom. Yet still I keep going. Deeper and farther and wider and higher because there is more to uncover there’s more to discover there’s more that the soul is ready to bring back home into the expanses of my heart. Though the ache is dull and finds its way back time and time again, it reminds me what it’s for. It gives me some purpose within each of these moments. A reason to carry on. Something to move through, something greater than what I have ever felt before. Because the only way is through. The only way is through and if I am to not dull or run or hide from what I feel, from what wants to be felt through me, then at least now I have a reason and the reason is to love. To love as I feel. To feel as I love and to never ever stop.

And still I will keep rising and so I will carry on. One to the next to the next, I carry on. Simply, and presently I carry on. I hope to meet you on this path. For if I do, then I know we are in it together. I know that you feel it too. And if we do not, then no fear for I still eternally and immensely and forever love you.