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“The person I had been was gone. I couldn’t bring anyone back, not even myself.”
I am sitting on the cold tiles, and my legs are bare, and the chill is running up my pelvis toward my heart. I learned to breathe more deeply into the back of my lungs after the woman put her hand there. Like love, I did not know that part of me existed until someone touched it.
Love. I would do nothing differently if given the question. Was it worth it? Always.
I change everything about myself in the aftermath of such wretched heartache. It is such a gift to be born again through the gaze of the other. No one comes into the world willingly. It is a message from within the self and outside of the self, whispered in a language you do not know how to speak.
The decision to be born is a bit like the caterpillar that does not know how to become a butterfly. The transformation is not swift. It is messy and lonesome, and confusing. Like Love.
I pray almost obsessively. My incantations are a bit obscene in this way. I fill myself up greedily with the mantras that release me from my desperation. I feel hopeful, and for this, I am bound to illusion. I want to see things as they are, as I saw him on the plane. A boy, not yet a man. A person struggling to define who they will become. I flickering image of myself at that age, though much smaller in physical appearance and energetic thrust!
Love leans lightly on the heart when it is playful and so heavy when it is not!
I am not one to walk to the center of the field where all can see me. I prefer the sideline, the edges where I can fall off to save myself from the masses. I cannot go where others are because they do not speak as I do. It is better over here in the corner where I can see out, but the shadows conceal many from perceiving inwards.
Reading is the reason I can travel so far. Riches are chosen, and I give them away because I know how vast the wealth in this world extends! Why can’t others perceive the splendor as I do? It is right in front of you! I want to stand on this silly table and scream. I don’t. I would be locked away for such behavior.
What is my greatest fear? To be unmated. To be unwed. This is not a rational apprehension. It is tribal. Georgina told me to sit in the disease and adjust the lens to fit the current situation. I do not need a man to protect me though I would have not so long ago. The lack of a lover in my life is something to contemplate. Do not celebrate your solitude, and do not despair about it. Accept it.
Why is Istanbul so cold, and why did I not prepare for such affairs? I don't think enough about the future, and maybe this will be what saves me as we work our way to the end.
I love how some people smell. I love the rich tenor of a man's voice and the gentle growl of a woman in heat. I yearn for someone to cuddle with and lean my head against. I've been using my small sandbag across my chest at night. I like the weight on me as a small cat or child curled at my chest.
It has begun to rain, and the girls to my right are drinking mimosas, smoking, and showing each other pictures of their kids. They look like they're twenty. To have a child that young- who would I be right now if I had dependants? I would not be at a cafe in Istanbul sipping espresso at leisure. I wouldn't be worrying about finding a mate.
I don't worry about finding a mate. I could have one if I wanted one. My mind is finicky like this - I attract people unavailable because I don't really want to be attached. I want to write and be left alone to my self-discovery. I want to be with women. I want to create and contribute to the kula. I will teach yoga again after landing somewhere for over a few weeks.
I am high from the caffeine, and my hands are shaking a little bit, and the rain will surely make me leave before I am ready. The girls speak English. It has taken me twenty minutes to realize my native tongue in someone else's mouth! I am not listening with my ears. Or my body. I am too bound to this process of reconciling my angst.
My despair is only for myself. I give too much away too easily and say yes before considering who it is for. I am learning a lot at this point in my life, and where have I been all these years? What had I tucked myself away in that I could not be who I am today? I was hiding. I am clever at concealing the secrets of my soul, and the only person I caught in that trap is myself.
There is no point in holding anything back. There is no point in putting the cork in the bottle. Let it breathe. There are many places to hide, but what is the point? If there's a predator, go to it. Eat or be eaten. If we are a species of power hierarchies and control, confront the person before you and keep moving. If you die, so be it. You'll be born again at some point, perhaps in an era worse off than the one we are in.
Much of this comes down to timing. I don't believe in coincidence. I also don't believe in luck. Time is the thing you want to let loose and let live!
I cannot manipulate time - I cannot control it any more than I can the impulse to breathe. The one thing is the source of all life.
Keep it moving - you must. The will to live is complete when we recognize ourselves within the world and without it.
I have consoled myself with the pretty words I use to decorate my surroundings. What is the point of all of it, you ask.
To design the world you want to live in, and invite your lovers over for dinner of course!
Photo source.
