we want to jump from our (un)comfortableness.
we want to wrap up our humanity in a pretty bow and isolate our feeling and the rawness of life from our little air castles.
death and grief are as natural as birth and joy.
there is a bit of thread connecting it all.
don’t rush to swallow your tears and cleanse the room.
let the softness of your toes on the ashes
remind you of your ultimate destiny.
let death be as it is.
a part of life.
don’t placate it with empty words.
let it break your heart.
hold your self open to the flood of feelings.
they are not your enemy.
they are your reminder of your own blood.
of your infinite love and centuries of bonds.
you are part of this dirt, too. and one day it will call you.
cleave your arms into the ground. grow from your sorrow.
bloom in the pregnant night.
when the time is right. you will open (again).
until then you are fertilizing your ancestor dreams.
gathering strength from silent streams.
collapsing under the weight of hopes and heaviness with an armful of grace.
let it unmake you. this life.
let it beat in your ears,a sacred mantra
of living. let it open you.
allow the water and the stinging in your eyes
to transform you.
you don’t happen all at once. you have no lessons to write of yet.
you are no guru.
you are moving slowly on this earth. allowing it to resoak you with afterbirth and laments.
trust that the deepness of the pit
will release you to the light.
you are healing as you breath but there is no rush.
holiness is still here.
it does not need a bow or magical words. it does not need a timelaspe, folk or internet wisdom.
just sit and allow your life to be.
lean into it. love what is.
grieve the space(s) that remain empty.
celebrate and mourn.
do it again and again. this human vulnerability is your birthright.
the one you forgot.
this human frailty feels wrong but it is not.
this is your living, too.
you don’t have to be strong. you don’t need to be brave.
allow your life to find you.
inside the shadows and shade there is a fullness.
inside the breaking (there may always be the agony of uncomfortablness but) there is is a fullness, a life—
it will feed you forever.