i believe.

i believe in crazy
i believe in doing everything which i'm told not

i believe in what doesn't make sense
i believe in the darkness that comes with the light

i believe in the rawness of feelings
i believe in telling all but listening to none

i believe in taking chances, risks, leaps
i believe in connection

i believe that we create our world, every thought, word, day
i believe that the only crazy is what is not done, for fear, or flight

i believe that in this one life, we shouldn't think about tomorrow
i believe in the mysterious trust in letting go to allow for the greater flow

i believe in today and that feeling that makes no sense
i believe that you should listen to your inner guidance, your wisdom

i believe in being crazy today, following feelings, darkness and flow
because if tomorrow never comes, then how else will i know?

this life.

When did I even have time to come back to you lately? To sit here and to think. To stare into your peaks and dips, and wait until the next rip tide flows over my skin?

No time.

I’ve found myself in the shackles of too much, more, seeking, wanting, pushing, and not honoring my own sacred temple. Not resting and enjoy all of the intuition and beauty that I have inside of me. I find that when I take the time to let it shine it GLOWS out of me, through every pour of my being.

The things that I seemingly find in the breaks of my being, hidden far away in the darkest corners only come when it is safe and quiet enough to become vulnerable.

What is this tug of war with joy, connection and slinkling away into the shadows? I’ve finally found the magnifying glass to assess these tendencies through. It’s as though I don’t want anyone too close to be able to feel joy. But is that real? There is the flip side of that that is allowing people to have all of my time, all of my quiet and all of my words. That’s not right either. Yes, when saying yes you will always have an enjoyable time if you change your attitude to say that ‘whatever my decision may be, I will be ok with the outcome.’ I am not trying to get anywhere, just enjoying the journey-to some degree of it.

Mines a struggle in the giving, patience, the waiting, the organizing, the planning, the vulnerability, the being scared to make a decision so I sit and I wait and then anxiety and feelings of emptiness, unfulfillment take decisions place. I have been here before, each and every one of these places has seen my face before. we have said hello and been courteous to one another even though the anger that is bubbling up inside of me could nix their existence. Why am I back? What things haven’t I sorted that need sorting?

All.

Being busy for busy sake, not finding my creative quiet time, always having to listen to the clock and be somewhere-for someone or something. never saying no. feeling bad when I do say no so I sit in angst until I finally tire and sleep takes over my fragile body.

Do I run because I cannot deal with the pressures of being present, having to show up and connecting to the world around me? Is it all too much? I feel like I’m going to break, often, then my strength picks me back up. Can’t you just let me crumble like the last cookie in the sleeve? At least it would still taste sweet.

So I find you in the shadows, in the moments when nothing else seemed to work out, or did it? does joy make me feel out of control? Does it spin me in a way that only a child understands freedom, love, laughter, and lighteness? Does that scare me? Is it too hard to handle? Where do you compartmentalize something of such?

Press play and you’ll see the orchestra of life take their seats, the bells and whistles in line as the ducks are forced into a line because somebody somewhere heard that that’s how they like to be-have we ever asked them how they fancy arrangements?

Then you’ll grow old, teathered and grey, your skin soft, worn down from love and light dancing upon the ballroom of your cheeks and brow. You did it all right, the stories you tell, from tears to joy to a life lived full. When you tell me this, I see something else, there’s this sparkle, the twinkle, or is it a tear? As I see you scan back through tht efiles of your mind, what didn’t you do? What did you not say when you needed to say it most? If you would have stepped into your own path, what would the webs you weaved looked like?

I know you won’t say, these things that I see when I look into your eyes, as I drown on your river, that runs ever so deep. So hold back, just like you have, for the years have passed, you’ll say through tears. “I have to be thankful, for those that I had, I can’t ask for more, who do I expect I am?”

The things that I see, that not a one of them will say, hides deep in my soul, the cracks and the  folds, for it is only when I take the time to be with you, that it feels safe enough to peak out for one fresh gulp of salty filled ocean air.