And in my defenselessness, I feel it all. Access granted to the love that brought the pain, the same love that restores all things in good time. I don’t know what constitutes good, until the moments show me.
At first, a resounding “anything but this,” is the thought that protects my heart from destruction and prevents it from going over, until the river is so vast and powerful nothing can stand in its way.
The voice in my heart nudges me along, letting me know it’s time to let go. “You’re going down, sweetie.”
I learn to welcome that too. Welcoming the death is a kind of love. Can you feel it? So alive with timeless presence and the awareness that this, too, shall pass. So, I feel every subtlety. I love every curve and detail of the skin. I press myself against the flesh behind soft clothes, still feeling my desire, though I want to recoil and crawl in a ball so tight I could almost shut the world out.
Not this time. This time I feel it all. And I cry. I cry the soft weepy tears, and the deep wailing moans that quake from the gut. I cry and love myself there. I cry for them all, the ones who know heartbreak. “Okay,” as I watch the salty water roll down my face and splash on the forms and colors in front of me.
It feels different this time, like every time, but equally as devastating and equally as daunting when I see it coming. Foresight can be kind that way, to give warning. So, instead of bracing myself, I open the hatches, loosen the ropes, and let myself out to sea. If I don’t go all the way, I will surely return. I have to prepare as though I’m leaving this shore forever.
Birth is like this. We have to prepare to leave the shore of formlessness for what can feel like a very long while. We have to agree to inhabit a body and experience life through the filters of human hardware and planetary constructs.
I am waiting. I open my heart to feel the meaning. To know the compassion that comes from being cracked so hard the pieces don’t come back together, but make new and interesting shapes that become this art.
Somewhere in there, I locate gratitude for being touched so deeply. It’s faint one moment, and rolling laughter the next. This involuntary dance is the reminder to yield to something bigger, as if it were a choice. That’s where I find my power, and turn it into pretty things, like gardens of understanding.