When you let go of who you think you are… you might discover who you really are

She weaved her way through the throng of bodies, all undulating, in motion, swaying, some with their eyes closed, some with their eyes open… alert, soft, keen, curious, kind, intense, probing, stiff, present, childlike… the whole array.

She passed him in her periphery and smiled… not at him… but at the presence of him. Tonight eye contact eluded her. 

What was it about eyes? 

Her arm arched over shoulder, momentarily, fingers leading her dance before her hips spun and her feet found the next step, toes grounding into the floor, the muscles in her thigh dutifully supporting her weight. 

They say everything. Everything is sometimes too much. 

She breathed out a sigh, eyes closed, a breath followed by the release of the tension she’d been holding. Tonight her dance resided in the interior of her inner self.

Between bodies, her feet swept the floor and time passed as they danced themselves alive, their sorrows and their joys, their fears and their hopes, their pain and their catharsis, their shadow and their light… into the space of transmutation.

The music brought out the delight of her inner child, as though she was a child jumping on a trampoline in sheer joy… the sheer joy of knowing that feeling again. Her eyes opened for a moment to see bodies in unison… in staccato, in contrary motion. The music brought out the stillness from within, as though time slowed and the space grew silent in prayer and her wounds and her tears crept up to meet her again. The music moved the erotic through her, playful and uninhibited, sweeping into the center of her desire, spinning her like a spiral. The music moved through her intensity with its ferociousness and her body weaved the language it spoke, carrying it through the space. And as the night drew to a graceful close… the music brought the lyrical melody of the infinite and she followed its arc.

Turning, she suddenly found herself eye to eye with him and the shadow of a smile on his face.  

Surprise pulled her lips into a smile before her thoughts could assemble and he returned it with the same grace. As though that was an invitation, they moved together, energy sweeping around their bodies as whatever dance they began to co-create… weaved itself through them and in the space between them. They were the dance and the dancers, lyrical and languid, slow turns and graceful motions… drifting yet energetically intertwined until the music came to a gentle landing and whatever had been created… was in the uncountable depth of his eyes accompanied by his smile.

When you let go of who you think you are… you might discover who you really are. 

It was joy and love and the beauty of connection that she felt. Did her smile and her eyes, too, hold joy, love and the beauty of their connection? She bowed.

Joy continued to uncoil from her belly, rising its way into her heart, into the feeling that was unfurling there and buoyed her for the rest of the evening.

What was it?

She mused as she drove home. The way he moved and connected with her. How curious, that a connection like that created the joy and fulfilment she was feeling.

Respect.

The answer reverberated back to her.

Worthiness, platonic love and respect. 

Sand

Letter to Sixteen: Dear Numbness, Dear Suicide, Dear Depression

Hey… N.S.D. … if you were a character, I’d give you black bangs along one side of your face… you would look pale to me… a little ghostly and gothic. All black and white with drooped devil may care shoulders.

You would have a little of the rebel in you… after all… that’s what you are… inadvertently… quietly in your own way, unable to fit in… deeply unwilling yet unconscious entirely about your unwillingness except for how sad you are, how numb… and how little you care. 

You’re stuck… forever in this late phase of adolescence… to me. You haven’t matured enough to know how beautiful the world can be… you haven’t experienced enough to know… what pain and suffering feel like… except in this little world of yours… with the colours turned way down… nothing feels good and nothing is good and nothing looks good… and nothing is nothing is nothing is nothing is nothing. 

Actually, you know, that’s what I love about you. You don’t care… and in your lax mischievousness, there’s no malicious intent… only a numb state of being. 

Except you chose that. You like it that way. Because when the colour returns… when the blood comes back… when all the feelings come back… it’s too much, when the sun kisses your cheeks warm… you won’t be able to hold back the tears. You won’t be able to hold the heaves in… you won’t be able to hold the cries in… you won’t be able to move through this world like a ghost… pale like a shadow… half here… because numbness is how you keep the pain out. 

Numbness. 

When you choose to feel numb… did you choose it because it was acceptable? That numbness was more acceptable than the messiness of feeling everything? 

I think… it’s better to feel everything… than to feel numb. And if everything is too much and you feel like suicide is your only recourse… I want you to love yourself. I want you to believe that you can teach yourself how to love. 

How to love. 

It’s easy to love all the good things in life. It’s easy… to love what others love about you… it’s easy… to confuse what is good and what is the opposite… it’s easy… to forget that love is really nothing but everything. Love is how you become real… and how you step onto the gentle winds of fate and let them sweep you halfway across the sky, following the stars to the center of the universe… love is nothing… but… everything. The emptiness between your sighs and the spaces between your words… the breathes in and the breaths out… the beginning and the ending… love is your favourite colour… and love is also… someone elses favourite colour. 

Love… is a metaphor for forgiveness. Love… is a metaphor for how the world became the world… and a metaphor for how we all died. Love is the absence of love… and the presence of knowing it because you couldn’t see it. Love was the heaves coming from your body… the sound of an angel singing you to life… the voice of an angel on the shores of fate. Every cliche and every rebel… began in the seeds planted… love is the only way it could’ve grown… could’ve bloomed… if the sun never kissed the earth… if the leaves never breathed… if the sea never washed us out… if the mothers never cared for their young… if fathers never protected, if the winds never whispered and the leaves never changed colour… if the world never spun and the stars never died… how could this human mind… fathom such a concept as love? 

Then… judgement is just… a confusion. Passion misplaced… thoughts… in disarray… and judgement… is the truth of living in a world that is dualistic. Judgement… is inescapable. Judgement is the result of freewill… of choice… of choosing one way of being over another… of choosing one way of thinking over another… of choosing one colour… over another… of choosing one race… over another… of choosing one place… over another… of choosing one person… over another… of choosing… because that’s the strangest dichotomy to exist. Choice. 

Judgement… is the presence of choice. 

Choice is dualistic… and freedom for chaos… is frightening. What do we know of chaos? What do I know of chaos? What do I know… of our histories and all unexamined truths? Is it possible… to live in a dualistic world and never choose? To live in a dualistic world and choose everything? To honour paradox may feel like an invitation to chaos. A departure from order. A departure from structure. A departure from the known. 

How could we not love the darkness equally? How could I not love the night sky… that has shown me the beauty of the stars? How could I not love the darkness… that has taught me to appreciate the beauty of the dawn? How could I not love the total darkness… that has taught me fear… and the beauty of the light falling through the trees? 

How could I not love the parts of me… struggling with this duality. How could I not love the parts of me… living this story as though I am it entirely… and not also the observer… the creator… and the character? 

How could I not love you… playing the embodiment of fear… so I could know courage? How could I not love you… playing the embodiment of cruelty… so I could know compassion… how could I not love you… playing the embodiment of pride… so I could know humility… how could I not love you… playing the embodiment of authority… so I could know my own. How could I not love you… playing humility… and yet… it is through the pain and the contrast, that I have learned the most. How could I not love you… playing compassion? Because I know cruelty, because I have played cruelty, I weep at your compassion. Because I have known fear… I value the strength it takes to be courageous… I value the sweat, blood and desires that were spilled in the knowing of this. I weep at your kindness… I smile at your candour… I smile at the truth, as naked to me as the stars in the sky. 

I have desires, and there are desires that have me. Everytime I feel this pinch, it’s the middle way I want to walk. I want there to be more happiness. To be more freedom for happiness. To be more freedom for love. To be more freedom for courage. Freedom for truth. Freedom for kindness. Freedom to love the darkness as well as the peachy things in life. To watch the duality unfold and sit back, laugh a little or a lot and enjoy the ride.

 Dear Sixteen,

You haven’t experienced nearly all the things you want to experience yet. There is wisdom in the adage, This too, shall pass. 

It’s good… to make friends with Numbness… with Depression… with Suicide… and like all things in life… to remember that change is the only constant, what goes up will come down… what rises will fall as well. 

Learn to commit to the ideas you find worthy. Learn to commit to what excites you… and not what someone else suggests is right and proper if it doesn’t make your heart sing… Learn to develop and hone the quality of Discernment. Discernment… is judgement refined. Learn to admire the beauty of where you are… experiencing this blend, this flavour of life. Learn to commit to walking this path you chose… because choose it, you did… and choosing it… was your choice. 

Sand