ilunga
“Hope, like every virtue, is a choice that becomes a habit that becomes spiritual muscle memory.”
Nullification.
You cannot always listen to people's words.
Music, yes.
Laughter, always.
Sonnets are for sometimes.
The fear is where the lies live, cruel and tight as a crawlspace.
In my dreams, I was carrying bags with money in envelopes and clothes tucked in purses. A girl was locked in the bathroom, yelling at me through the door. The bus was a forty-eight-minute walk away, and I had too many things to carry on my own.
The girl had blond hair and a pale complexion and told me that the bus stop was outside her home, though when we arrived, I saw that it was not. She befriended me on the bus and when we got to her apartment, I felt that all she wanted was to take something from me.
I kept misplacing things; she kept asking me how I did it.
Did what? I asked.
You must have a rich boyfriend. She said.
Then she locked herself in the bathroom.
Georgina says I am brave to walk out all alone. The whole point of going out was to discover the courage of my heart- to build on the bravery and listen.
I'm too sad to sing sonnets lately.
On Friday, I went out with a girl I met in France. Her boyfriend owns a castle in Aix and his family is of the French aristocracy. She no longer loves him. They've been together for ten years and no passion exists between them. She is unimpressed by his lack of motivation. His parents pay all of their bills- rent included.
She spent the duration of lunch texting a bunch of other dudes. I picked the prosciutto out of my salad and afterward, we did our nails and I painted mine blood red.
The nail polish is chipped away now, but that evening it looked magnificent!
I removed my green shawl and walked about in a black lace tank top with my shoulders bare to the sun. I have a burn today. My back red as the polish.
We walked to a party overlooking the marina, where everyone stood shoulder to shoulder with cigarettes dangling from their palms. Everyone looked so elegant and posh. As the sky darkened, small lanterns overhead were turned on and bubbly drinks appeared. I was impossibly bored by it all. No one wanted to talk or ask questions.
I'm always on the beam alone, wandering in shoes too high.
I left without anyone saying goodbye.
I had a bag of pistachio cookies in my purse with my laptop and notebook. I walked the seawall, sat on the edge under the stars, and ate a few cookies to numb the waves of sadness that teased the stones.
I feel so lonely. So desperate. So full of desire. So wanting for a friend.
Once I was at home, I took out my earrings. Brushed my teeth. Flossed. Stripped my clothes and slipped into bed naked.
I woke up before dawn so sick and dizzy by my despair that I dry heaved for an hour. My face glistened. My body burned. My hands shook.
I brushed my hair competitively. If I had a pet, life wouldn't feel this unbearable. I've misplaced my preference for solitude.
Right now, I just want someone to lie in bed with me so I can listen to them breathing.
Georgina says it's my chemical composition changing.
I'm in the goo phase. The dissolution between the caterpillar and the butterfly. The bug is emulsified before its granted wings. Nullification.
I suffer rejection each time I'm invited to lunch. I don't belong there. The words say one thing, but the feeling I have is not aligned with the invitation.
What am I saying yes to?
What is the unspoken contract in these affairs?
What is the intention in every relationship?
The cellar may be cold and cruel, though it's where I find the beast in chains that rattles the cage until it breaks!
Bring her out-, my heart screams- let that bitch run!
Yesterday I had a cold shower and scraped my scalp with my hands. My fingerpaint is chipped. The effort brought tears to my eyes. I rubbed my face, throat, neck, chest, and shoulders with the red washcloth I've had since last summer. It goes with the orange luffa in a plastic zip bag when I travel. I leave for Berlin on Thursday and intend on depositing a few of my clothing items at a vintage shop downstairs. I want to see if I can make a trade for a few light summer tank tops.
After I rinsed, I went to the beach to let my hair dry in the wind. It blew sideways into my mouth and eyes. Snarls whipped, and as I walked toward the sailboats moored at the little inlet, I began to run. I kicked my heels up and pumped my arms at my sides. I sprinted until my heart felt like it was in my mouth! Breathless and burgeoning with that aliveness, I've craved to meet in another person.
Who needs them!
My purse bounced at my hip and my hair flew back from my face and the wind caressed my cheeks. My mouth filled with tears and I was too busy to bother wiping the salt from my eyes. My hands flung freely at my sides!
What a marvelous thing it is to move! My legs are strong. My core is getting stronger. I do a few kundalini kriyas every day and the polarity is shifting.
Things are never this or that; it is what it is.
What is it to be contrary? To exist just on one side? To dig one's heels into the wreckage and stay there regardless of the storm?
I can adjust my temper to the surroundings. I have no thing to hide and everything to offer to the ocean. The current is strong and if there were fewer rocks, I'd hurl myself into the wet.
Trust in the process. Live the questions. Feel for the truth.
These are the messages of my guides. Teachers. Lovers of poetry. Life-givers of philosophy. Immersed in the action with their bodies poised like a flag pole.
Surrender. I will let go of the analysis. I will give up the control.
There is a disconnect between what I feel and what I hear. So stop listening to the words and step into the wisdom of the body, Stephanie.
There is only the way you choose; a world is born in the yes.
So know what you are saying YES to before you step into the foyer.
Not every gate is worth passing through.
You don't need to be welcomed into the castle. A simple hut will suffice if that is where you greet your people. Paint the walls white and open the windows. Create space through the subtle details. Refinement is finding your spot in the world.
Where are you? Who are you next to? What did you bring?
Photo source.
