Held in Reverence

What does it feel like spacing out at the sky?
What is going on in here?
I see the clouds, I take in the beauty, are there any thoughts in my head?

Sometimes.

Sometimes I am just letting go of experiencing what is going on around me.
Disconnect.
Download.
Process.

The clouds are dark and heavy on the bottom, but bright and fluffy on top.
The lake predicts rain, but the air is still.
No birds calling. No subtle tinkle of the neighbor’s chimes.
The swing sways like the ghost of a child is having a moment with themselves.

The clouds break and the trees across the lake become bright, yellow, a magnifying glass concentrating the warmth and light into that one spot, moving on just short of catching fire.

How many times in my life have I moved on just short of catching fire?
How many times have I stayed when the flames had gone out?

The mountains look flat, like they were cut from cardboard and placed there only to suggest distance.

I’m not wearing my glasses.

The edges are all smudged like they were laid down with pastels.

Everything is a series of shapes. Just a series of shapes to suggest a whole.
We collect these shapes together with our eyes, forcing them to make sense to our brains in ways that don’t challenge us.

Maybe that’s why I don’t feel whole with everyone. They have chosen to ignore some of my pieces.
The ones that don’t make sense to them.
The ones that don’t fit within the version of me they have built in their minds.
The extra screw in the box.
Crossing their fingers, hoping I’ll stay together long enough for them to get what they need from me.

A deep breath.

Did you know that it’s not so much that you cannot get enough breath into your lungs, but that you haven’t let enough breath out?
A deep breath is only as good as the room we make for it.

Most people walk around with stale air in their lungs and wonder why the world tastes the same everywhere they go.

What does it mean when your skin feels stretched?
How does a snake know when it is time to shed its layers?
It doesn’t just fall off in one simple act.
Their skin won’t shed if they stay still.
When your skin starts to feel uncomfortable, do you just stand still until the feeling subsides?
Do you move through it until your old beliefs are shed?

It’s not that deep.
It’s not that shallow.

There’s a bird in the tree.
It just drops suddenly straight down from the branch.
It never lets me catch it in motion.
It’s there one moment, then drops in my peripheral vision.
Is it really dropping?

There is something in me.
I can feel it.
It wants out.
It wants to move.
It wants to grow.
It wants to drop, to be seen, to be caught, to come to the forefront and be more than an itch at the back of my mind.

If I keep typing... maybe it will come out.
If I keep staring at the sky... maybe I will see the bird drop.
If I keep moving... maybe I’ll shed the old me and step away as the new.

The sky has already changed.
The sun is reflecting off the clouds like snowy mountain tops,
the seaplanes cascading down like skiers.

You also can’t force it, I suppose.
The snake’s skin comes off when it’s ready,
if you pull it off too soon...
what happens?

I want to be wrapped.
Enveloped.
Held with pressure, not pain, but love.
I want to be kept together.
As if holding me will fill the achy places,
close the gaps,
make me feel whole again.

But those places in me don’t touch anymore.
They’re making space.
Not to be filled, but to be felt.
To be touched and loved as they are.
To unfurl.
To expand. 

Why does expansion feel like energy?
Building in the body, asking to be danced, shaken, moved, massaged, felt over, felt under, felt within, even fucked.

It’s asking for so much while containing more than I can see.
My voice yearns to moan.
To scream.
To sing.
To hum.
To breathe.

To breathe.

To breathe.

It doesn’t have shape.
It’s a nail down my spine, fingers reaching to pull the chord.
Finding the keys, it plays me.
Or maybe it is an instrument I am meant to master myself.
Right now I am merely playing Mary Had a Little Lamb while my heart yearns for Mozart. 

I want to crawl into a corner and let the transformation have its way with me.
I want to step into the light and let the new parts of me feel the sun.