There’s this space that we are all able to find ourselves in.
This space from the lowest ribs, up to the bottom of the throat--this space that extends all the way out from our shoulders to the tips of our fingers.
I remember once writing a poem from this place--
“I sit on a victorian sofa
inside of your ribcage
pressed up against your heart space,
pulse with each breath you draw in
I learn to live again”
One month ago, I was 24 years old--so much younger than I am.
I was in love. Being there makes you a child--
innocent--vulnerable--
you might ignore the fact that everything in your relationship is broken, that you’ll have no ends to mend it and you’ll find yourself on the kitchen floor sprawled out on all the dirty tiles, writing reasons why you’re in love with him-- like
“the time we went to blacks beach and drank wine on the shore for the whole afternoon and made love in the middle of the road on the way back up underneath every star and every tourist at the top of that hill--
You make me excited to be alive.”
I didn't, couldn’t even think that two days post-creating that list, he’d be gone.
I mean, he’s here.
Sleeping in my bed, twisting and turning,
clutching me still in his sleep--
but he’s gone.
He’s not actually here.
What I’ve found in that space I’m talking about--
that heart chakra-- that foundation of LOVE, that place we all radiate from, that deep green burning, that energy we all learn to take care of ourselves in--
What I found there is myself looking back at me.
Have you ever really looked at your hands?
Lately, I’ve been finding them interlaced with each other.
Fingertip to fingertip, just brushing. I’ve forced myself to accept that I know and feel where they are going to land when I’m holding my own hand instead of his.
Now, it’s a month later and I’m already 25.
How is this the youngest I’ve ever been?
I didn’t know if this is the most beautiful part or the most wretched.
I’m finding that it’s both.
What we should express our deepest gratitude for is moments like this.
Moments where we are so fucked up that we can’t see past all of it.
Moments that teach us what hurting actually feels like.
It’s not a shitty day at the office, it’s not a bad hair day.
It’s when someone who wanted to marry us doesn’t know how to love us anymore because of things as small as
not cleaning our room
or doing the dishes
or not hanging up our laundry as fast as it comes out of the dryer
What do these terrible times teach us?
that we are
STILL HERE
breathing.
Slower, deeper now
that we still here
holding our own hands
repeating,
I love you, I love you, I love you
now
What we find in our own heartbreak is that it is universal
that at times, we all have heartbeats thumping just as heavy
but they thump this heavy at the same time, together
we are in this
all of us
together
my heart just as heavy
my heart just as light
sitting on that old victorian sofa
trying to find a way to slither off of it
and back out in to this light
Your hand, it’s in mine
this is exactly where we take flight
This space from the lowest ribs, up to the bottom of the throat--this space that extends all the way out from our shoulders to the tips of our fingers.
I remember once writing a poem from this place--
“I sit on a victorian sofa
inside of your ribcage
pressed up against your heart space,
pulse with each breath you draw in
I learn to live again”
One month ago, I was 24 years old--so much younger than I am.
I was in love. Being there makes you a child--
innocent--vulnerable--
you might ignore the fact that everything in your relationship is broken, that you’ll have no ends to mend it and you’ll find yourself on the kitchen floor sprawled out on all the dirty tiles, writing reasons why you’re in love with him-- like
“the time we went to blacks beach and drank wine on the shore for the whole afternoon and made love in the middle of the road on the way back up underneath every star and every tourist at the top of that hill--
You make me excited to be alive.”
I didn't, couldn’t even think that two days post-creating that list, he’d be gone.
I mean, he’s here.
Sleeping in my bed, twisting and turning,
clutching me still in his sleep--
but he’s gone.
He’s not actually here.
What I’ve found in that space I’m talking about--
that heart chakra-- that foundation of LOVE, that place we all radiate from, that deep green burning, that energy we all learn to take care of ourselves in--
What I found there is myself looking back at me.
Have you ever really looked at your hands?
Lately, I’ve been finding them interlaced with each other.
Fingertip to fingertip, just brushing. I’ve forced myself to accept that I know and feel where they are going to land when I’m holding my own hand instead of his.
Now, it’s a month later and I’m already 25.
How is this the youngest I’ve ever been?
I didn’t know if this is the most beautiful part or the most wretched.
I’m finding that it’s both.
What we should express our deepest gratitude for is moments like this.
Moments where we are so fucked up that we can’t see past all of it.
Moments that teach us what hurting actually feels like.
It’s not a shitty day at the office, it’s not a bad hair day.
It’s when someone who wanted to marry us doesn’t know how to love us anymore because of things as small as
not cleaning our room
or doing the dishes
or not hanging up our laundry as fast as it comes out of the dryer
What do these terrible times teach us?
that we are
STILL HERE
breathing.
Slower, deeper now
that we still here
holding our own hands
repeating,
I love you, I love you, I love you
now
What we find in our own heartbreak is that it is universal
that at times, we all have heartbeats thumping just as heavy
but they thump this heavy at the same time, together
we are in this
all of us
together
my heart just as heavy
my heart just as light
sitting on that old victorian sofa
trying to find a way to slither off of it
and back out in to this light
Your hand, it’s in mine
this is exactly where we take flight