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It’s the thing that brings things to life. Or ends it. Our little clock that is in time with the world we are living in. The energy of it warms our blood and fills our bodies with the energy we absorb from its movement.
The heart is Earth. Blood is water and fire. Oxygen is the clean air we need to breathe to keep stepping on.
I feel like love is the sparkle we throw all over ourselves to make all these elements work in good time. It’s hard when it feels like hail. Learning how to love yourself, accept love of yourself…it takes the courage to retrace your path and figure out who told you all the cruel lies you believe about yourself.
I mean it. It takes so much bravery to figure out how your mind works in conjunction with your heart. Your soul does what it can to thread everything together, and your will is the wild beast that drags you through all of it. Mastery over yourself and belief systems. I now understand why the masters used to say it was the most difficult mountain to climb. That ego is always hungry, and when you first begin to starve it…you’ll have days where you all don’t live in harmony. Fighting with yourself is a b*tch.
The vampires of lore were creatures that took from their victims, though I’m sure some of their victims really got off on it. Rubies mimic the sparkle of light in a drop of blood. If you don’t think yourself worthy of love (or can’t accept love without sabotaging it), you’re an easy victim for those who deplete the resources of others. People whom you need to make yourself small for. A cupcake that hates itself is a delicate treat.
He and I were the stardust.
A natural combination of water and earth. But I need all the elements. If not all the elements, I need someone who sees everything I need and marvels at what I can make from it. I need growth from the earth, rains from the sky, but I’m still so scared of fire. Of sharing it with another. Especially if there’s love.
His fire was the red to my blue. We were as terrible together as we were magnificent. I still run my fingers over the burns with affection. Pleasure was pain and pain was pleasure. Reality made a cozy, little pocket when we were able to find each other. You can’t live in pockets when you have kids. Full connection.
But God, we loved. When he would sleep, I’d sing songs to calm his brain. He had a soldier’s brain. He still doesn’t know that it began so much younger. He’ll accept what I have to say, understand, but he’s more stubborn than anything when you try to push him in a direction he doesn’t want to go.
We both are.
We created something with that magic. I know the future. I can feel the way it leads me. I know what the “right” thing is.
When we found out that our baby died at three months…he hurt. He didn’t want to feel, or he couldn’t, so he pretended to feel what he thought he should. He didn’t want to share a name with me. Not even when it was just the ghost of life. It was a gentle goodbye without the words. It was a wound.
I couldn’t anticipate him. I always got his archetype wrong. I always had it wrong. He didn’t fit in the patterns because he jumped the paths like me. He wasn’t afraid to explore because he, too, had to survive in his household.
The world always gave us something to work with. The world was easier to live in than where we had to lay our heads at night. He was a man of the city. I was the girl who pulled him into the trees. He scowled through his first roller-coaster ride. Orphans. Lover to brother.
Anyway, I really hate mazes. Unless I see one. Then I’ll hate it even more. People have been throwing me into mazes my whole life. I swear, my life is a labyrinth of sociopaths I managed to survive. I couldn’t seem to die. I couldn’t seem to die. So since my mind has gotten me this far…time to keep going.
But, in this little space, this little grove of my mind, I’ll keep this sacred. I know what it feels like when stars collide. It’s addictive and wild and worth every burn and bruise and scar you get from it. Try not to hurt anyone else while you’re experiencing it.
My mind is a forest where I keep every firefly moment of joy and also the shadow parts of my life. I’ve spent the last year looking and learning through the deep paths of my memory and remembering truths that I would have happily left in Pandora’s box. I treasure my time and energy now but also crave new connections and ideas.
I noticed snow for the first time. How quiet it is. How cozy and sweet it is. How it shows you the important things—like plush blankets, and giggles, and nests made out of all the bed linens in the house where the kids gather like little birds under the tree of lights. (And that tree isn’t going down until spring. Or the plague gets figured out. Either works.)
Focus. Intention. Peace. Rest. Safe-Keeping. Action. Loyalty. Liberty. Harmony. Protection. Truth. Righteousness.
These are words and concepts I want to devote time to studying and understanding this winter. Winter is a time of peace, where sleeping in and cuddling in a warm nest to experience something that makes your soul sing…that’s what winter is for me this year. I have another semester of grad school to get through, another chance to stride through this path with a bravado I don’t quite feel yet.
I’m resting, but I’m not hibernating.
There’s an intention behind rest. What am I resting from? What is next? Where do I want to go?
I have a few winter moons to figure it out, and I hope to. There are no dead ends, just lessons that help you turn around and keep walking.
Next right thing. Next mistake. Next Triumph. Next humiliation. No promises, just potential.
But on this first day of 2022, I watched the snow and learned what it had to teach me. New Moon. New Snow. New Mind. New Intentions.
Let it snow.