Found adrift

Today might be hard friend, there may be moments that you prefer would go quicker, and maybe whole hours that you would wish wouldn't happen at all. But tucked in those moments, and filling in the seconds cuddling close in the minutes of those hours, I'll open up the doors, and curl back the shades, and kiss your brow to remind you-there are whole generations, and a whole universe loving you through this. This. This little second. And can you not see me now? Even now as I make softer the seat cushion beneath your seat so you could feel that the world is a gentle one? Then just feel instead, or look instead, or hear instead, and everywhere waits someone or something in some form eager to love you in its way.
And in this way, we are loved in moments and ferried from one cool uncertain shore of our morning to the next, accompanied always, and guided softly by a gentle rocking of some subtle way we cannot perceive from our stance.
And so, dearest love, though we think we may be fearfully going adrift, sit close. Then what does it matter if now and again we forget our way, if together we are loved through and through?

Humanly lovable like you

Tonight I am going to bed feeling blessed and lucky that I am myself and so Well loved. Thank you, to whomever it applies, for loving me. I feel it so deeply tonight. It soothes me more than I can express and I am so grateful for your loving. I feel So truly gently unquestionably loved, as I am. And I know it is not for lack of being known in my humanness.
I know that many of you know, and I want all of you to know in fact, so that you may know me better, and never think me better or more perfect than the imperfectly lovable being I am, that I do, have, and do, struggle with an eating disorder.

Some days are harder than others but your love heals me and makes all days easier and for it, on every day I am grateful. And so, on Facebook, the virtual land of concealed flaws, best shots, perfect angles, and selfies depicting our perfect selves i vulnerably offer you this, my self as I am, skin and bones, and unfortunately, as I am sure you've noticed, in some pictures quite literally.
Eating disorders are not disorders of vanity. For me at least it is a struggle with my sense of deserving a place on this earth and feeling safe to exist here. It's a strange and complicated disorder that is more than some teenage fantasy for a smaller and smaller dress size. It is an anxiety over the fact of existence, a question of one's worthiness to take in resources and participate in the flow of life at all.
When you love me you invite me into the flow of life, you affirm that I am not only worthy but welcome on this earth. Your love heals me in ways I am not yet able to express.
So if you know anyone who suffers from any trouble of heart or disorder of mind or body, and dear friends, who does not? Love them, love them hard, but softly- you know how I mean, incessantly, endlessly, but with great slack and understanding. Love truly is the only healing force on this earth. By love alone, we live.

love-filled

It's not so much that I have gotten lost as that I have decided instead to be less confident in the degree to which I am completely founded; or what I am founded upon. I am rightly confounded. The more days that pass I am certain only that I am a beating heart in the emotional sense of a love-filled loving thing that just keeps on loving in its way. "In its way" is the real point, you see, it's that that makes all the difference between us. In fact, it is that which account for the difference between any of us at all I should say.

There you are, going about yourself in your way, and here I am in my way, and we are all made of love, loving about, and all the difference is in our way of loving. And God-help-me if I don't make a mess of it now and then, in my blessed endearing terrible lovely way. But here I go, as you go, no doubt, no better or worse; lovely sloppily, neatly, carefully, too carefully at times, an carelessly on some days, and sometimes in long stretches and even seasons or years at a time. The point really is, there isn't anything too grand to worry about.
Yes, I suppose that must be the point. With the substance being the same, it's all really just a matter of style, and there is no accounting for trends and stylistic sway.
Just love on, dear soul. It's what you're made of, there's nothing more or less of you, and there's not a thing else to do. And you do it beautifully after all. I love you.

Rise

Happy Easter beautiful ones.
May you rise from your many dying, life draining parts and patterns still rotting in funeral shroud and leave them behind to be mourned on some darker day. And rise now, rolling back what ever covers your hearts tomb to rise again and allow the flow of life through.
Let love move through here, through our body frames and illuminate our dark insides and whatever lies with in & with in them.
Be illuminated like the moving pictures. Let's see it in your eyes starlit like your mother said they once were, or was it your lover who told you?
When was the last time you gave someone something sparking to look at and had the courage to let them stare?
Beautiful one, I miss your eyes, please undrape and come out from the dark. And I'll wait, even years, with hope of a new happier life that seems as yet impossible in loft of happiness and brightness given the dark we've known. But outside the cave, at intervals, forgive me if my waiting yields to screaming and pushing and pushing. I know there's light out here and I want you to know that.
The truth is we are always and always waiting to push back the new cave door within ourselves, mourning desperately the one within and waiting to enfold them in our arms once again and always. Or waiting always and desperately to open up another part of ourselves to receive love fearfully that another part may see it in the light and love it.
We are all engaged in an endlessly love affair, with Spring tempting winter out of its clothing and so on and so forth. How can I not get so wrapped up if the whole world is wrapped itself? And so I ask, universe undrape me, as you melted the snow and shaken the leaves, shake out the death from my hips and the cold from my wrists. Make me hot as breath on a lover's neck in a subway in July. I'm done with careful icy step and thickened garb. I want to dance and I want you there too. Here comes the sun.

Proudly broken

The really interesting thing about honesty is that one always wants to appear honest, and will in fact go to great lengths to appear so, without ever really wanting to trouble themselves with the actual, real, terrifying, inconvenient, gritty, danger of the thing. The really unfortunate thing about honesty is, without it, their is very little substance to relationships, hope for healing, or any real sense of purpose to living at all. So it is only to the degree that one has the courage to be honest; and really this means vulnerable enough to be visibly flawed, can one have any hope for a sense of meaning in this life. So in short; show us your cracks, your chips, your jagged edges and lets us love how lovely a shape you make. Let your presence make it permissible to be equally jaggidly chippy cracked whenever you come our way. Be the permission to be, as we are, peacefully, contentedly, authentically, honestly, that we have all been hoping for. Be freely, courageously, frightfully, unabashedly broken- here, i'll show you how...

i hope you feel my love..

The kindest decision I ever made for myself was to stop keeping track of all I had lost. The choice was made mostly for the efficacy of the matter. I mean, who had the time and the commitment, and how exactly does one measure the lack, the empty spaces, that imprint in that heart and demonstrate in the world as the space between a reaching hand and an unreachable thing? And the cruelest choice I keep making is to lose track of all of the love I have in my life and all the kindness offered to me endlessly. I guess this is whatever amounts to the winnings in life? And I could say it is not accounted for, or kept track of due to the same strain of laziness that lets the other end fall to the wayside, but the truth is, i have no idea how to say thank you. I have neither the measuring tool to account for the love and kindness, nor the language of gratitude for properly meeting it, nor true understanding of why it should be offered to me, personally. And therein lies the confusion-- It is not personal. None of this is personal! If I can clarify anything for you beautiful soul of mine, within, and without of me, it is that none of this is personal. We are bits of ourselves, loving ourselves in the form of others. Let it be as personal as that. So let you thank you and let you forgive you, and let the accountants only mind the accounts. Your precious heart was not made for accounting. Only for finding and growing in and out of itself and loving onward, forever and ever. Amen.
And if it matters at all to you, my precious capitalist friend, I have the suspicion, if we had kept track, we would be immensely ahead in our winnings. Because I know confidently that in the end, we will rest comfortably and assuredly in loving arms.

on my own...

Oh hey, anyone up for remaking their core wounds voluntarily in the context of the dating scene? Abandonment, codependency, fears of inadequacy, power struggles, trust issues, insecurity of all kinds? No? Right! Because it sucks. So I'm on my own again in the eternal ouroboric love affair of my mythical divine nature, loving, nurturing, forgiving my precious fumbling well intended and endearingly delusional human self. Sacred unhinged miraculous jaw to snake ass, may I find satiation in my hunger for what ever it is I am craving, that brought me and brings me endlessly to the meeting points of existence and makes me choose life again and again with the longing for more.

you rock

Right now, it feels like this. What "it" is and what "this" is remains unclear and unknown. But what is known about both is that both are shifting constantly so as to make them both eternally elusive to any sort of actual reason or measurable comprehension but somehow my very Identity, my construction of coherent selfhood as a consistent being depends on the momentary shifting elusive inconsistent reality of both. How we exist even a moment without being in awe of ourselves is beyond me. In brief, you rock.

Good morning

Let's do it new now, like it's never been done, never exactly like this before. Let's do this day honestly, Like we don't know how it goes, because honestly we don't and we never did. We just forget that fact because it's too scary to remember. So it starts like this, we open our eyes and we pretend to see things and then all the little things become clearer and clearer and little by little as we notice all the in between and in between in betweens and the creases of faces smiling and the birds tuck-tuck-tuck in wingfolds we fall in love with the thing and we love and love, and breathe, don't forget to remember that you are constantly breathing and we love and breathe and love and breathe our way back to right here together and pretend that we knew how we got here or how any of that was done when it was all and always a crazy mystery that keeps happening and we ourselves, a miracle.

I love

I promise to go only willingly and not dutifully to the things I love with love. I love respectfully and honestly, trying only to wipe the dirt from my eyes to see clearer and clearer what is before me. I love not Purposefully or with some plan in mind. I never knew pottery or sculpting and you are not my clay, I am not your God, or your mother to raise, or shape you in anyway.
I know I want to love the way the sun loves; the way it shines on everything equally so that everything can be seen fully for all that it is without apology for what it is, knowing that what it is, is enough if only it would be seen fully brightly with as many eyes as it could. For all I love , I wish you the brightest light to be seen in all of your truth by as many eyes that can truly see and understand the beauty of what you contain within and glowing with out of your skin.

But most I hope you do not blind yourself by your own light, and in those momentary splotches of pure black that come with that blindness of a light so bright that your eyes cannot attune, you mistake yourself
For nothing. In truth you were more than even you could perceive in the moment. Trust me, I know. I know your magnificence, and even I don't know how much. Because you have yet to fully reveal yourself. But even so, of what I know i've become a great great believer in the light. And for that I'm grateful I'm grateful I'm grateful

Dance like...

Dance like you're pretending that you don't see anyone watching, but you know they're watching, oh... don't you worry, they're watching, so you better d.d.d.rop it. ;) or dance like everyone else is dance so I guess I should dance, or like wobble, or what ever. Because I just kind of want to feel a part of something. Or dance like, no one's dancing, This is a supermarket/clothing store but I love this song, so I'm totally going to dance- yep it's happening, it's happening right the f now.

Love like "you better love me back this way because I deserve this, and let me show you how well I deserve to be loved" then love so damn hard that your heart feels like it has a heart within itself loving itself. Yeah love deep and weird like that. love so hard that it's weird. :) love so hard that you start loving yourself more for how much you love. Like damn you're so damn lovable for your loving and start loving you for your own loving.
Love like- why the hell not? Is this life better lonely?
Sing like you don't actually think you're freaking amazing singing that particular song.
Sing like- I like it- I like it even if it's a terrible ungodly sound. sing like the more ungodly it is, the more you find it amusing, and laugh your butt off. And let everyone else laugh too. The older I get the more I realize the transformational, healing magic in anything that makes me laugh. So make me laugh with whatever ungodly sound you make. And if you're blessed heal me with whatever beautiful sound you make. But good God give me song.
And live like you believe that you're the one person on this whole earth that got it figured out. Like you got this. And even if you don't you have the audacity to live this day anyway. Somehow you're going to keep on living without any freaking clue what you're doing here or how to do it. Bravo my friend. That is courage. And you find a way to do it every damn day. Bravo.