lone soul.

What is it that we seek to explore?

Most often, nothing.

What questions don't we ask one another?

Ourselves?

Inquire.

What will we find?

 

You find.

"You're a good listener."

Aren't we all  in search for just this?

But do we return what it is we seek?

L e t i t s t e w.  

What will we find?  If I asked you what it is you sit with when you are alone, will you know? Will you be able to discern through the madness, the whipping thoughts, emotions, photos, memories, the words, the feelings without crying, without overwhelm, without veering off on a path you may have let go? Did someone tell you "it is what it is?"

But do you believe them?

Are there things you seek to explore but have the heart to look back on? Or forward to?

We hear but we don't l i s t e n.

We listen and think we h e a r.

When our thorns are disrupted, the ones that dig deeply into our unsifted wounds, we retreat. We hide like a soldier in the dugouts, deep within the shrappings of our dungeon we've crafted through lifetimes, the angles, the lighting, the smells and sounds strategically measured and placed into an equation for safety. An equation that will never be fool proof.

 Because life h a p p e n s.

And when those thorns fire up when we seek to listen, we run. We run and we run, faster into the night, faster in time, finding shortcuts to bury the wounds, treasures sinking to the ocean floor, ricocheting off the cliffs and stones, the mountains of our experience.

"It will be what it will be, because life has taught me so." To let go, to cease rumination, to chalk it up to "something of the past," ashes floating on twirling breeze.

What if I asked you if it was an opportunity? What if I told you that it didn't have to be what deemed, is. That to explore is to live this authentic left of self, to replay the scene, flashing forward and backward, quill in hand writing the pages of the story, each day unfolding. That all things will change through required self inventory.

That there is not what is but what has happened,  Not a missed opportunity or a clandestine moment, but a loop hole in the story. A story of your life, one handcrafted for yours truly, requiring you to show up. Requiring your active participation in the crossing of the T's and the dotting of the I's, because without your presence, it will be left unfinished. Untilled.

What if it's not scary? What if it's just lonely, yearning for affection, tender love, an embrace of understanding, truth, belonging?

A c c e p t a n c e.

What if it,  just wants to be h e a r d ?