There is only the now.

Do I take the long and easy route, or the short and quick one off the ledge? Over the edge of the unknown into the vastness of all that is. Running ragged and running myself dry. Is 11:50 an opportunity to rest or slow down or is it simply just the time?

I reread my old intentions “to embrace the darkness” in order to rise into our light, always always always, yet now I wonder if I’ve dug myself an early grave. Or, did I instead create the ground for me to rise into my greatest power. What is it that hurts and burns us so badly to share our true selves with the world? What else also makes us feel the most alive and exuberant and beautiful in our fullest power of love? Can both simultaneously coexist? To share with such raw vulnerability, all the intricacies of our minds, of our beings, what we crave and what we desire, and allow it to bear us naked and exposed, and too to empower us in all that we are? When everything else is stripped away, either gentle or with force, we truly and clearly see all it is that we are. All that it is that we desire, all that we are being guided and led towards and all that truly, deeply fully matters to us, on a soul level. We can ask for it all to be gentle, for what is stripped away to happen with so much ease and grace, and it will, it does, but if we turn a blind eye and do not listen, the stripping away may turn harry and violent, catastrophic, but the warning signs and the twinkling of bells always would have been there. Is it possible to avoid catastrophe or is it what we need in order to evolve? Am I simply starring back into the darkness because I don’t know what it would really be like to look into the light? Do I look back upon what’s fallen in hopes to rebuild because I don’t know what the future holds, and what if what I need is to really just relax and let go?

I tried letting go for so long, over and over and over again. So much so that now the idea of holding onto something seems futile. Will anything ever last? Or is death the only guarantee. Is death the only thing that we know for sure? If I fully lean into the fullness of my life, the beauty and the magic and the wonder, will it all just fade from me, will it all just be taken one day? How do I express this if no one else around me seems to understand, brushing I do things, hoping from one experience to the next to the next, never truly satisfied, they tell me around. Yet here I am, content with a broken heart. Content in the shattering, for it grounds me into my body and it makes me feel alive. It reminds me of how much I can feel. And that’s the toxicity of the cycle, going forth to the thing that hurts over and over again simply because it reminds me of what it feels like to be human, this is an experience that no one else can have, it’s alone to me just my suffering is not unique. And that’s the thing that we all share.

Bright as the sun and heart beating and no need to run. My body feels tired, my mind has been pushed too hard and far and I know that I can let in the light, I know that I can let the light in and that it’s easy. It’s easy I remember. It’s easy, it’s always so easy. Yet the real question is what for? What to try for?

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I found communion in another who felt the pain. I found comfort in someone else so that I could finally be the one who rose into the light. I found a mirror of my own suffering so that I could feel the expansiveness of my being. I could be the one walking on air, I could be the one holding the grounds of positivity and patience and light and love, I could be the one glowing. I could be the one helping to make all things better, for I was the one who ‘knew’. I knew the light because I could see it when the other couldn’t. I could feel it when the other couldn’t, I became the portal for them to know love again, yet still it wasn’t enough. To became a portal for one other being to feel is how a cup runs dry. It’s how a person rungs themself ragged and dry. It’s how someone focuses on the numbers on the clock as signs to rest instead of as simply the time.

My fingers fly across this keyboard, sharing everything I know and everything that I feel. I am reminded that I am safe and I am protected and that I am the love and that I am the light. The truth is that I feel what u feel, the truth is that I know the depths of pain and too I know the brightness of light and I don’t need to convince anyone else to come into the light with me. I’m not here it be the beacon for one alone, for I am here to be a beacon for all. A beacon for myself, for all parts of myself that got lost in the dark and are ready and wanting to come home. To come back into the light. These parts of me that never see that daylight and want to now heal. Want to know their purpose.

Everything happens for a reason, it’s what it says and it’s the truth.

The heart breaks and the heart mourns and I sit here with a stoic face and I compliment the work of others and I continue to rise kindness up form the darkness. I continue to allow light to lead the way even when I do not know where it is that I am being guided, even when I do not know where it is that I am being led.

…

I over shared in order to feel like something I experienced was right. In order to feel a justification, in order to know that the love I felt from the depths of the darkness was real. I shared to put pins in the map and to draw the red thread between them. To hold the ground amidst so much unknown, this map of tiny perfect things, a bright light amidst so much unknown, amidst so much chaos, amidst so much darkness collapsing around and around and around itself over and over and over again. I put the pins on the map, I painted them red and I proclaimed them lovely, for that is what they are. Beautiful and bright, their heart off with another, yet here I am solving the case, working my magic, stringing it all together. I want to save you, I want to show you magic, I want to bring you into the light again. I want you to feel safe, I want you to feel held and seen and protected. I want to bring you out of the darkness,,,, and still,,, still,,,, I am reminded that it’s not my job. So I try and find a different course, try and steer myself into another route. Let it all go, mend my heart back together, I try and I try and I try, yet instead of trying, I simply let go and I flow with what pours forth out of me. And maybe this is the trap, of always feeding deeper into the ache of a broken heart, or maybe it’s the medicine that slowly lets the body heal. To hear it fully and clearly and true,

Maybe the magic is within the honesty and the unapologetic authenticity of sharing what’s here and not running away. I don’t run. Not me, not you. And so here I stay, allowing the light to guide the way,