He's not a poet.

"He’s not a poet, but
I can tell from the way that he
traced the curve of my spine with his fingertips
that he thinks like one.

Because I could never fall in love with a man
who didn’t know
that the most tender thing
he could possibly do
was send me a poem by Baudelaire
and tell me, “I think you might possibly like this.”

Because fuck if that’s not one of my favorites.

And all I ever wanted was to fold myself into someone
who heralded unspoken thoughts and was a messenger
of words without words
of a kiss broken by silence,
of silence, broken by a kiss.

Because all of the men I’ve ever fallen for
weren’t really poets.
They just held secrets 
like gold teeth in the back of their mouths,

And they kissed me
like I was the last poem in the world."

- Shinji Moon

That one gave me chills.

 And of course, this chilling song (an old favorite) to me, captures the words. 

"Your eyes they look the same as mine

Guess you knew this for the longest time"

photo source

You will find grace.

"You can have the other words; chance, luck, coincidence, serendipity. I'll take grace. I don't know what it is exactly, but I'll take it. Raise the multicolored trap door of the mystery- the stars, the sea, men and ideas; give form and meaning to the formless, the mindless infinitude. Underneath, you will find grace."

Mary Oliver

Yes Mary Oliver, yes to solitude near still waters, yes to grace, and yes to this extraordinarily beautiful piece of music. 

(Heart sigh beginning at 0.49)

"Well I don't have many, and I don't have much
In fact I don't have any, but I've got enough,
'Cause I know those eyes, and I know that touch
I don't have many and I don't have much.

But oh, darling my heart's on fire."

photo source

This too, was a gift.

Olivia thought it’d it be awkward after ten years; 
to see him again after the space between then and now.

 Somehow they’d kept in touch long after the days of their teenage years when time had stood still on a summer island, where they’d worked summer jobs and did summer things when their world was filled with ice cream and swimming ponds and bonfires and humid nights under silver moons.

Olivia could still see it perfectly, the day Paul had helped her move off the island back on to the mainland, then said goodbye as he left for somewhere else. After a final hug, she’d weeped for days, then occasionally every so often for years to come, for something she wasn’t quite sure of except maybe the sting of a loss that was greater than friendship, yet not quite a love, for love was a heavy word, and after all, it had only been just one summer.

    Yet, to her surprise, Paul had kept in touch throughout the years, calling her at unexpected times, and always at night. She never answered, nor did he when she returned his calls, for somehow the messages were sufficient enough, their sleep soaked voices groggy and sweet, lasting on the other end as many times as they could be replayed. The ”how are you doing”'s, and “come see me”'s, and of course, the gentle “I miss you”'s lived deep inside the space between Olivia's lungs that used to breathe ocean air, and belly that fluttered with hope. She saw it as beautiful.

  There was a finally a time when Paul answered her returned call catching her off guard as a forced  “Hi Paul!!” rolled off her tongue as though he was only ever a friend and it had only been a week instead of years. “Olivia."
Her name sounded good the way he said it, a familiar voice on the other end that sent her back to nineteen, before time built its walls and fear found her flesh. Energy moved through her body like flames through wood, and the sound of nineteen on the other end suddenly made things possible, as though life was suddenly new, and the stars above shone just a bit brighter.

 They’d managed to casually make plans to spend a day together--share space the way they used to, not on the island, but in a city she happened to now live in, that Paul happened to now be passing through on his way elsewhere. They could've called it “convenient” but to Olivia, things were not convenient, they were simply meant to happen.

When that day came, Olivia was ready. She stood on the city street where everyone walking past faded into shadowy silhouettes as Paul stepped out of a cab fresh from the airport as though he'd been transported through time and into her current life. He looked the same, only better, his once slim physique now carrying more muscle and his chiseled face revealing the fine lines that life brings to a man's expression.

Olivia could've collapsed in his arms when he held her tight, into the bubble of warmth and intensity of hello. She found she had to break away first, not trusting herself and the hot tears brimming from a place in which she wasn't sure, except perhaps from the end of missing someone.

  “Olivia…” his voice trailed off as he took a step back and looked down at her, lips breaking into a smile, eyes blazing. “C’mon, we only have eight hours. Show me your city.” So she did. She drove him up the hills of San Francisco, knowing he’d appreciate the way the light illuminated the fog, and how the energy changed with passing neighborhood. They explored like tourists, tethered to one another in their own world on cable cars, and bikes, and bridges, drinking in the views.

  

 There wasn't too much talking about anything of significance, just gentle chatter about the less important aspects of their lives, yet Olivia felt herself soar in the way she used to know, as though the life she’d dreamed was unfolding and that soon Paul would be holding her hand instead of faintly brushing her arm, sending electricity down her spine in such a way that she felt she might implode with something so more than herself, for it was astounding that the light touch of a person's skin could do this to her own.

  And then she knew he had to leave, 
the way he had before.

  Eight hours had slipped away the way fireworks leave the sky:
 explosions of color that dissolve into night as though they never even took flight. 

They drove to the airport wordlessly, the strums of acoustic guitar on the radio blending with Olivia's heartbeat she now feared was growing too loud as she watched the exits as they passed; hundreds of exits too tempting to think of, surrounded by trees and trails and streams in which they could run through and lost in each other, like the days spent on that lovely summer island, at nineteen.

  By the time they'd slowed down the car, Olivia felt as though she was practically gasping for air and sanity. She imagined what it’d be like if she begged Paul to stay, stay for a night, for a week, or possibly forever. To leave behind whatever life he now lived, so they could create their own world, a world that existed so they would be able to ride out the wave of energy between them where passion builds and shudders and builds again until every inch of it was gone, however long that would take.

 Instead, Olivia found herself pulling up to the airport departure lane, to park next to the curb. When she turned to him, he was already looking at her intensely. “Thank you for today" he murmured as he leaned in. Their eyes locked for a brief second of breathlessness before his lips against brushed hers, and then he pulled away and opened the car door a bit too quickly, and stepped out onto the sidewalk a little too fast, and shifted his carry on while bending down to look in and ask with a playful grin, "Run away with me?"

 In that moment, there were things she wanted to tell him, but she was afraid they’d confuse him so instead she buried them deeply so they’d confuse her, and found herself watching Paul with glassy eyes as he slowly turned and walked away. Her eyes followed him until the indoor airport crowd swallowed him, and just like that, he was gone.   

    Olivia drove until the roar of departing planes became a hum, and the horizon swallowed the setting sun. She thought about people, and how some people weren’t meant to stay in your life, except perhaps in the space inside where nostalgia lived. It was a place where the sweetest memories were actually only one voice message away, so you can relive a feeling you'd really like to keep, where the past intertwines with the now, and continues to live on. And it ached. It ached deep in her core the way pieces of a heart cut when they've been shattered in your center, the way you revisit a home that is no longer yours and empty.

"If I never see you again 

I will always carry you
inside
outside
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in centers
centers of what I am of
what remains."
-Charles Bukowski

 She knew there was a reason some people were not meant to stay
 and that the mystery of why that was would eventually be revealed.

That people were made for the rising and falling, and that broken only meant something else would be born.

 And that too, was beautiful.

 photo source

Clarity in a cluttered world.

Good morning lovies. Here is my newest on the beautifully inspiring virtual world of Rebelle Society. 

“I have been and still am a seeker,

but have ceased to question stars and books;

I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me.” ~ Hermann Hesse

Meet the unknown. The frightening part. The part that we think we’d rather not step into or consider because it makes our stomachs turn with one part butterflies, one part overwhelmed and two parts nausea.

When you actually must face the unknown, it often feels like hard manual labor, too dirty and sweaty and maybe even so unbearable that you’ve convinced yourself it’s actually easier to swiftly turn around and dive back into the comfort of the familiar because at least you know you can handle that kind of pain.

You already live it every day.

Remaining stagnant  just seems more reasonable than a major life shift, despite the daily weight of your most glorious idealisms attempting to eject life into your tired heart, calling out furiously and begging you to listen. In this chaotic modern world where so many distractions beckon at every turn, many of us have actually forgotten how to listen to ourselves. 

However, without expectation or explanation, sometimes, those what-ifs catch us off guard, and flood us with an ancient wisdom that often reveals itself on some idle weekday afternoon when we are immersed in our dreadful daily routines.

This wisdom is called clarity.

Shocking, dizzying clarity. When it arrives, the secure ceiling will lift, the floors will fall out from underneath your firmly planted feet, and the light will sweep in from somewhere that looks like sky.

Before you can digest it, touch it, or know what is happening, your vision will come in so sharp it will feel as though the entire world is suddenly crystalline, and your eyes can see above and beyond what has been, what is now, and what will be.

Your soul’s passion will pass through your body like a wild flame, igniting your spirit, and rendering you breathless with answers and seemingly unstoppable determination to finally do what you’re meant to do.

And then, just as fleeting as it appeared, the moment will pass, and the flame will evaporate into a lingering trail of smoke, swirling alongside the all-too familiar drizzle of  paralyzing thoughts that begin to quicken with such intensity that soon enough they’re pouring and blending together to morph into one giant and roaring storm of “I cant’s” and “No’s” and “I’m not capable” , “It’s too difficult” and 99 other ridiculous excuses you’ve become so conditioned to produce and drown in.

All at once you find yourself right back to where you started; feeling so drained and far removed from living the seemingly unreachable life you were actually meant to live.

The white light moment of clarity happens to us all, but it’s hard to make it last. Too many of us will dismiss it as another passing, meaningless daydream that slips away from sight before its significance is ever fully realized.

This is now me speaking to you. I am staring unflinchingly into your eyes, human to human, and I’m going to tell you to take slow, deep breaths, trust your moment of clarity, and then go romance the hell out of it because it is one of the most beautiful and true things you will ever come across in your lifetime.

"You will have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you discover will be wonderful. What you will discover will be yourself."
-Alan Alda

Imagine your clarity as your soulmate, lover and muse, screaming from the rooftops in order to get to you in any way possible to find yourself again.

It’s a miracle you are here, and with that, you are powerful and worth the extra work because the only thing keeping you from the life you want to live is you and the lies you keep telling yourself as to why you cannot achieve it.

Now, once it slips out of your grasp, clarity can be an elusive lover. So how do you get it back, and hold it close on a daily basis so you can be in tune with the important small choices you are faced with each day that lead to your vision and purpose?

1. Let go of your own imaginary boundaries you’ve carefully compiled block by block by block until the walls were suddenly too tall to climb, too rigid to push, and too heavy to lift. Break them, astounded by the strength you didn’t realize you possessed.

***

2. Dissolve the paranoia that stiffens the movement of your precious, aching joints until they can once again find the very beat it takes to continue dancing.

***

3. Release the linear parts of the mind that poison you with worries; worries that weigh down your head and spine and hips to the point of exhaustion from leading a dreadfully predictable life that feels as though it’s becoming a tortuously slow erosion of emptiness with each passing year. 

***

4. This one is brought to you by the lovely Anaïs Nin:  

“To change skins, and evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one’s mind and the psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use.”

Discard all forms of clutter such as toxic people and meaningless attachments that regularly fog your path. Remember if you’ve been trying to fill that void with external “stuff,” now is the time to let it all go.

***

5. Refuse to be that person that, like so many others is still driving down the same road, years down the line, desperately seeking to go back in time to be given just one more chance to take the road that they know they should have taken. This is your chance; so take the road now.

***

6. Let go of the idea that the pain of change is greater than the pain of remaining the same, because honey, this is life and life is painful, so things are gonna hurt no matter what road you choose. Dive headfirst into the unknown and change something.

***

7. Practice yoga in your free time. Go for long meditative walks, then go home and fuel your body with vibrant, colorful, nourishing foods. Then sit and feel the energy of health rush through your veins.

Staying healthy is not as difficult as you think, and once your body realizes how wonderful these new ways of loving yourself feel, I promise you, it will begin to crave them daily.

***

8. Become unhinged, unglued, and undone. Learn how be connected to the universe, freed from the chains you had created, and have courage.

Once you reunite with your clarity, let it lubricate your parched soul, be the wave you want to glide on and the energy you give your body to. Allow it be the friend you become powerfully fearless with and the very medicine you need to dissolve your empty parts. Let it halt your restless yearning and lead your beautiful heart.

This  clarity will help you release your passion into the world and once again pour vibrant color into your sepia toned life. Awaken and have trust for breakfast every single day as you allow yourself to be driven by the magnificent force of that one gorgeous dream that keeps returning.

It will not lead you astray.

*Image Source.

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