Land, air and fire; no water but the tiny oceans that fall from my eyes -- no wind but the one that moves in and out, my chest and belly -- rise and fall, rise and fall -- and of course, me sitting, heart beating, thinking, feeling, naked and raw, as if all the layers that were there from the start have evaporated and instead my insides are on the outsides.
I was not meant for the cage of the existence I was living. I knew there was more. My heart was hungry and the fire that was slowly fading became a raging wild fire. It burned through the lies and ignited the truth and showed me the way, to me, through you.
You've got exquisite taste in sadness, too. It's the perfect combination of melancholy and hope, sprinkled with rage and longing. It's the kind that I can feel coming from miles away. The kind that comforts me.
If I knew the way, I would take you home...Perhaps the only help I’m able to give you about this is to let you know that I know what it’s like. That I’ve been there. That I’ll undoubtedly be there again. That when you are there, isolated from the whole world, you are not actually alone. That there are people, things, a world surrounding you, holding you up, laying you down, covering you with blankets, massaging your feet.
Whatever nuances our partner may present, even those we abhor, we must love them all. For without any one of this myriad list of ingredients, the one to whom we open our heart, the complete entity we have fallen in love with, would cease to exist.
If love is a destination of regular heartbreaks, loneliness, wasted tears, and constant fear, even when you are in the arms of the one you love, then maybe you shouldn't rush to it. Maybe, like time heals wounds, you should give love some time.
I'd forgotten I could send my love directly to me -- not my reflection of me in you -- but to me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and through my gut and liver and frostbitten fingertips. Let my love nourish me with as much urgency and power and healing as I used to channel through you.
You feel the sense of cold betrayal that rises when the person you trust most with your thoughts and views, with your strengths and weaknesses, tears you down with a few ill-chosen sentences, judgments that don’t even seem to have a basis. You feel blind-sided, attacked.
Are you spending your nights in a stranger's arms, searching desperately for something you'll never find? Are you replaying your past like a broken cassette, reliving mistakes over and over in your mind? Let go, forgive yourself, please take the first step. I promise to love you better than you've ever been loved...
Your eyes find mine,
and the sincerity is so palpable
that it renders me incapable
of keeping these confessions
from escaping my mouth.
I've loved you so
for quite some time now,
and more now than ever.
By Sammy Hart
I don’t think I’ve ever told you that I love you, but I really really love you.
I think you’re beautiful, every single part of you. Every curve and every scar a perfectly placed piece on your canvas. Yes, even those pieces that you judge too quickly, I can’t help but smile when I see them. Those pieces make you you and those pieces make you beautiful.
You asked which piece I love the most, but it’s hard for me to choose because the whole of you is even greater then the sum of your parts. Your strengths and weaknesses, all of them have combined together to create the most perfectly imperfect piece of art — you!
Yes, I’m talking about you!
I know our relationship is far from perfect, and I know in the past I did most of the decision-making in terms of what you needed. Please understand it was difficult for me to hear...
A year ago, after several months of subtle edging out, I found myself unceremoniously exiled from a hive that had felt like home. The notion of kindred spirits I had held cupped so carefully in my hands was knocked to the ground, and I was left to wander an abyss of no redemption.
In expanded love, I let some people into my heart -- fully -- while keeping healthy boundaries to ensure I remain strong and loving. In expanded love, I love and take care of myself first, so I can love others.
Life has flown by so quickly, lately. Mornings turn into afternoons, afternoons turn into evenings, and those turn into middle-of-the-night heart wanderings of the things I want and the things I hope for -- things that quietly burrow into a neat little ball in my throat.
I'm not stunning, I am ethereal. Yes, hard to understand at times, ambiguous for sure, maybe overwhelming or even contradictory. But I told you all this way back at the beginning. Rather sheepishly, even, because I knew then what you now have realized: I am hard to comprehend. And you, my love, loved me for it then.
There is life after abuse. There is also marriage afterwards, even if that marriage is to and with oneself. You are not alone. You deserve respect. You deserve love. You deserve a safe place to sleep at night. You deserve kind words to be said to you, not just sometimes, but every day. You deserve to shine your light rather than to hide it. You deserve to flourish, to live your dreams. You deserve community. You are not alone.
He said, "I understand your reasons for not wanting to go. All I ask is that you remember that you have not had a chance to say your good-byes. If nothing else, attending the viewing will help you accept your father's passing and give you the opportunity to express yourself as you see fit in your farewell."
You live so deeply within
my bones that I swear
I can feel you shiver
from within my spine
when it’s cold outside.
You have surrounded my heart
with so much barbed wire
that I feel tiny pinpricks in my chest
every time someone makes my heart beat fast.
By Alise Versella
We were sitting at the corner of miserable, the streetlight flickering on and off like a soon to be dying firefly
We sat cross-legged — Indian style, meditating on our raucous thoughts twisting like television chords
The old black-and-white kind with alien-tinfoil antennas
The picture in our minds was crackly-fuzzy, then turning Technicolor rainbow blocks
When you know the programming has been interrupted for a very important message
But it was just cars whizzing by with their horns blaring rude and demanding to turn down the street first
Like just by honking louder you could get there that much faster
And once you’ve gotten to said destination, what awaits you?
What did you nearly run over to rush over to?
In such a rush to get nowhere, just to another corner of another street
But perhaps the streetlights aren’t fading on that...
Throughout my life, I've often found myself feeling confused, even guilty for feeling too intently, too intimately, too sensitively. Because of my over-feeling attributes, I've often resorted to behaviors that diluted my innate, sensitive superpower...I'd cowar, become shy, inhibited and/or extremely introverted — and I'd feel bad about who I was. I didn't understand how to use this characteristic of my being so instead I'd also stress out for feeling overwhelmed by stuff that seemed easily manageable by other people.
That's why it's so exciting to connect with another person on the level of the soul. It's why people say, Love is blind -- there are no judgments, just being. That feeling is usually triggered by sexual love, which has the power to quell the ego's voice and transport us into a state of communal oneness.
Just look around you. At the beauty and the bliss. At the terror and the teardown. At the utter certainty and every last unknown. It is all a part of your story. Part of how you were made. Embers of grace and grit. Ashes of breakdown and breakthrough. Born of fire. Made of light.
And suddenly it's so toxic, you can't breathe anymore or your friendship seems to be splitting you into separate directions. You're stuck, no longer moving forward and perhaps moving backwards. You can't seem to talk to them anymore; every minute feels like a chore, you can't step outside of your mind when you are with them. The connection has done a complete 180.
I have spent years feeling your intensity, your fierce intelligence, your audacious spirit, your breathtaking heart, and I have wept and laughed and marveled with joy at the sheer brilliance of all you are.
What is it about soul love that makes it so messy? I grew up on fairytales. Not one of them ended in divorce in order to find the mystical prince of my dreams or gave me any hints on how to walk the woods of false rumors or survive the shire of complexity. "Love comes with a knife" -- Rumi, the master of love himself, tried to tell me. I am now, perhaps, ready to listen.
The things we don't want to talk about, but keep folded up neatly inside where other people don't go or see, will sometimes splinter off into the light, showing that we don't really have anything all together.
"The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself." ~ C. JoyBell C.
We all know that person who, no matter the situation, always seems to have the same story: “I am soooooooooooooooo busy!” Maybe for you it’s a boyfriend or girlfriend (actually, let’s hope it’s an ex)...