aonaran
“Tremulous and sick. Bent, thin, I smell fish in the driftwood. ”
Dear Anias,
Today is not much better than yesterday. My heart is heavy. My lungs are sad. I have not flown in weeks. I miss seeing the stars from up close. It is cloudy, and the dampness suits my mood.
I have not connected with anyone here. I have not merged with a community. I have not made any friends. The messages you put out into the world are what you attract. I made a false and narrow assumption based on what I saw, not on what I felt.
I cannot trust my eyes. I cannot trust my ears. I cannot trust my mouth. My tastes are based on preference which is colored by my experiences. Bias is a touchstone.
I have had this sadness inside of me since birth. In Vancouver, I smothered it by busying myself with caretaking for others. I have no one to do that with here. We all do. So for the first time, I am feeling my suffering.
How I hold myself is everything. The arch of my spine and the angle of my cheek. I want the world to see me and feel how full of love I am.
I want people to touch a part of themselves through me that they've sent down into a well with a cold little bucket.
What am I fishing for when I stick my hand out in the dark?
I wanted to possess him to rid myself of the unease of not belonging.
I stuck my hand out to feel his skin. The earth, the warms, the textured curls braided by salt and sand. He is magnificent and I want to be with him to feel that I belong to something.
To someone.
It is an ilussion, Anias. My mind will not let me rest. I am too rich in knowledge to bask in the sorrow of such love stories.
He cannot save me.
I do not need to be saved.
There is no monster to save me from.
The only demon is the fear that upsets my heart.
And good that it gets so startled!
I felt our passing when I returned to Marrakesh to get my bag. I slept in the bed where we leaned into each other's bodies. I cried in the shower, where he knelt to soap my body and washed my hair. I sat on the rug in the living room, where we did yoga and sweated in the midday heat.
I felt it then; the ending.
The body knows and the mind rejects it to keep itself contained. To navigate the wild worry that overflows from the tiny cylindrical cup. I have been pushing myself forward without looking side-to-side since I was small and I am not renegotiating my lifestyle now.
I will use my fear to become stronger; I feel sick, and instead of throwing it all up, I will sit in it and see what appears.
I sat this morning for sixty minutes in meditation with Ganesha.
Remover of Obstacles, Lord of New Beginnings.
I just have to ask. I am such a hopeful romantic! I love the lightness of being in love! Bless the gods and goddesses; they are always with me.
What is lust Anias?
I have never considered my relationship with my body, my being, through sex or a sexual relationship.
During the meditation, he appeared. He is so full in my heart and I do not know how to move forward. I cannot let it go. I am not willing. I will know when it is time; for now, I will surrender to the discomfort of knowing and not knowing.
Knowing that we can not be together unless I convert to Islam.
Knowing that that is not my path, my belief is not in Islam.
Knowing that I love him.
Knowing that I am discovering a new type of love through him.
Not knowing how to move forward with this information.
We made space for each other in this little way in Rabat. He comes to me between shifts a the restaurant. I move my schedule around to make time for him. We are both moving forward on our own paths in tandem with what we are doing together, whatever that ends up being.
I've felt so stuck and static the last month. When he shared his feelings, he lifted and became light, and I went down, down, down into the cellar of my body. I am still down there. My eyes are open.
I will ask hard questions and say what I feel when the moments arrive.
What I want doesn't matter; what is happening for me right now is beyond anything I could have dreamed up. I am out on the beam, willing to see what wants to appear.
He appeared in the desert.
You appeared, Anias, on the date of your birth. You lusty, marvelous woman! What a swap from my unadorned sister Simone!
You are both wonderful and are guiding me with your own philosophies.
I am creating my own philosophy, watching the butterflies.
What do philosophers muse over, Anias?
The meaning of life?
The concept of love?
Faith, surrender, and devotion.
They are synonymous, and yet not quite the same thing.
The ache I feel is always there. I've smothered it and now I am ready to feel it fully. To express it in my writing, this extraordinary beauty of being alive!
Photo source.
