you and me

We Are One And The Same.

You say you were up again last night. You say you couldn’t sleep.

I know the worry that twists your sheets. I know every lie of not-enough and too-much that has been impounded into your skin.

These contradicting twin bastards bounce off one another to endless degree, inflating matching, gnarled roots with stale nourishment until they merge to become one monstrosity, taking over the entire forest. I know this monster, dearly.

And with it, I know the chants that haunt you, the choir singing you awake.

You say you love country music too, just like me. I see you, hips swaying in the kitchen while three pots go at once. You grab a stem and move from side to side with such fluid motion that you couldn’t create it if you tried.

You say you bought a paintbrush, only to climb to the top of the hill and sit. Because the colors you saw both taunted you and filled you with hope. All you could do was stare.

You say the mountains bring you to life. I hear the rush of new blood, embedded in the rocks until it carries through your soles, coursing within every ounce of flesh. And I know the feeling of just what you mean.

You say you once, without thinking, paused a bike ride, and lost your place in the lead.

You shouted to the pack strong disclaimers about the inconvenience of an untied shoelace, as you gently transported a roaming caterpillar to the safety of an off-road leaf.

You say you’re only in it for the meantime, this grind you do here. And that someday you’ll do something else. Something meaningful. Maybe you’ll be a teacher. Or you’ll travel the world.

I hear the bells of one-day, hollowed promises floating on the same breath of faith that you will do every one of these things, and more.

You tell me about that time when you were young. Getting lost at the beach, running along a wind-blown, sandy dune, for what seemed like hours. Or was it days? Playing peek-a-boo with grassy reeds taller than you were.

And the whole time, not giving a care if anyone found you there, ever.

You tell me this story, and your eyes light up with a million more. Of lifetimes past, present, and future. You and me, within them all.

I know you, because you are me. And I am you.

Cellular walls cannot differentiate; normal boundaries in any self-constructed notion simply do not exist.

I was there the time you shattered that glass in the slip of a drop that shook us to the bone.

Trying to clean it up yourself, you ended up with tiny shards covering your fingertips, your hands a transformed crystal web reflecting trappings of glistening, red beads.

And then (and we still don’t know quite how this happened) one of the shards even got to your eye. I was one of thousands of tears flushing mercy, coating the earth with a medley of salt, blood, and glass.

I heard you cry out the night she left for the first time, and the last. I heard you cry and the sound was too much for me to bear, so I taught you to rock yourself back to sleep. Every night I taught you this, for centuries.

We are one and the same.

One heartbeat.

One pulse.

One set of lips.

I sing your song, and you dance my dance.

And my heart aches with a renewed whisper of all the things I cannot say.

Mostly, I know you. You are me. And I am you.

***

BrettonKeatingBretton Keating is a Yoga-fanatic, clean-eating junkie, artist-because-she-doesn’t-know-how-to-be-anything-else. She never sought this lifestyle, rather it found her; after years of attempting to be ‘normal’ she realized that simply doesn’t work. Now she strives every day to live from a place of authenticity, and aims to inspire others to do the same both through teaching Yoga and through her words. Bretton grew up immersed in stories. Through years of practicing Yoga and meditation, she has learned to ground back down to Earth, and realized that she has the power to live her own story. She is passionate about sharing her experience and the process of exploring this life, particularly in the realm of mind-body-spirit health, however she can. She writes because, quite simply, she knows that she must. For more of her musings on Yoga and life, check out her blog.

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