waking into everything

i’m back after a little hiatus. i’m not going to apologize because i needed the break. and part of this project is about listening to myself, allowing myself to find the balance between achieving goals by staying committed because i want to and not because i feel guilty about it or because i think i should. “shoulds” are really everywhere (you can read more about that in my first blog post here) and are much better for future planning (“i should really check that out!”) than cementing ourselves in the regrets of our own history (“i really should’ve told them how i felt”) or the story of others (“i do it this way, so you should, too”). so i’m back. and i appreciate the space, support, and lack of “shoulds”: you’re rad! 

now, on to the actual piece for today. this idea came to me just as i was falling asleep and jolted me up because i couldn’t let it slip into the ether, along with my consciousness, to fall out of my mind like the day. while it is short, it gets at a small moment that i’ve tried to cling to each time i’ve experienced it. i’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. thanks for reading.

you wake at 4am on a saturday, nowhere to be and no time set to wake, hearing the wind in the trees. the sound, bursting through the stark silence of the darkest part of dark, is everything you could never put into words. and you shake in the warmth of your bed, feeling the energy of the world; the beautiful, noisy quiet, telling you the state of the day. it is a moment between you and no one else and all things. it is the place you had forgotten and always remember, tucked neatly behind your ear. 

you, aching with joy that you woke, let this moment wrap around and through you like a spell-bound midnight vine, saturating your senses, soaking you to the soul; warm, swift air embracing you, lulling you down, back toward sleep and your own interior, velvet darkness. and you know, know with every part of you and see it already set into motion, that this moment quiets you so she may depart. walking down the sidewalk on your street but a wisp and a soft, milky petal, floating on the air. but you’ve seen her. felt her there. and knew her whole life in that moment. and you close your eyes, glad for this, letting it pass with reverence; everything being right and good and as you knew the world has always been, through every moment in the history of moments.

and everything being different when you wake, again, hours and darkness passed, smiling.



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