There is a soft
in every lie.
There is a soft
in every lie.
The quiet moments when we see
we’ve been wrong.
They melt the ice of life
into sweet drifts of frost on wind.
I have been wrong
to my own heart,
often without knowing.
I have been wrong,
some days, it’s true.
Now I float in the mist
of a forgiving heart.
A forgiving heart
to soften the frost,
to sweeten the day around me.
A try a little, day,
I am me.
Not who you think I am.
Not who you wish I would be.
Just who I am.
This quiet storm.
I’m feeling a little tender, today.
It’s a lovely feeling, don’t get me wrong. Soft and sweet, like a warm rainy day. It’s a feeling I’ve sat with at various points over the last few years, a new softness that has grown into me like the sweetest of dreams.
It’s just…it’s an aching quiet, actually, is what it is.
A middle land. A place for me to live within the beauty of this moment, a place to also feel the absence of the hearts and souls that bring me to life. How beautiful it is to connect with souls who fill you with life itself. How beautiful it is to love them. If only I could bottle them and keep them with me always.
I’ll never regret a moment of this winding life.
The aches that have held me so firmly in place some days, the internal fights that have cracked me open. The surrender. It’s all a part of it, isn’t it? This life we all try so hard to control— there is no controlling it. Even if we could catch the wind in a jar…how could we possibly know it was in there?
I am handing you this small patch of quiet in the hopes you might pin it to your heart, or your soul, or somewhere nice. That the soft of me might bring you some comfort, or friendship, or whatever it is that might be missing for you in this moment.
To those friends I am missing: I love you. You are a part of me.
To those I will never meet again, it was sweet. (Or not. Just sayin’)
And to the parts of me that are magically brewing in some invisible place, waiting to be seen and known and touched: I am here.
I will wait.
In this quiet place, I will wait.
It’s a strange sort of beautiful, this life.
I’ve followed the breadcrumbs, even the ones I knew would blow up my world. (They blew it up: into a million pieces of possibility. Beautiful possibility, for everyone around me.)
I have been lost. I have been ecstasy.
I have been right when I thought I was wrong, and wrong when I thought I was right.
I have been in love—my goodness, I have been in love—and I have been broken, and I have been dirty, and I have been changed.
This whole life long, I thought I was one thing.
I never have been one thing. I have been a starburst of infinity.
And now I see her rise, this girl, to this woman inside me— how she soars with the swell of abundant life.
From the ashes, she flies. Out of the haze. At least for today.
There will be new love in this shining place. I’ll see it with my heart, I’ll know it with my soul.
There will be friendship built on truth and depth and eternity.
There will be a roaring spirit, in the place where magic lives.
And there will be you.
Always, there will be you, my friends.
I send a text message to a friend: a message that warms my heart because I’ve said something that fills me with all the lovely things.
In my mind, I see my friend receive the text message. She smiles.
In my mind, we have just shared the most BEAUTIFUL tender moment together.
To me, this is my reality.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it?
I’ve constructed the entire story beyond reality as I truly know it to be.
The reality is that the actual version of events may have gone something like this:
I send message. Smile (all the lovely things, la la la.) My friend receives the message. My friend is emotionally triggered by something I have lovingly communicated in the message. They are not on the same page as I am. Not even one-little-bit.
Oh my goodness. You guys. Do you see what horror I have to put up with in this random little world of mine? How is a dreamy, love-hearty girl like me to deal with such a stern and logical talking to by the invisible powers that reside within? Lessons on how to live in the moment. Lessons on how to tear the dreamy light out of my eyes?
I mean, really, universe.
Shame on you for breaking a girl’s heart.
Something is coming
that will make us smile.
It’s easy to forget, isn’t it—
that smiles always come back around again,
even when we think they’re gone for good.
It’s okay to forget.
The universe will always remind us, someway, somehow.
Like now, for instance.
Here we are, remembering together:
Something has always been coming.
Wildling feet have danced too long
in the forest of evergreen,
waiting for the leaves
to change and
This is a little experiment where I will write. And I will not stop. Until I feel it’s time. Time, it’s an abstract concept, don’t you think? It’s not of the world, but also, it is. In an odd kind of way.
What is life, I often wonder. It’s the little things taken for granted. It’s the flowers we walk past every day, without looking. It’s me. It’s you. It’s us. It’s them. All of us living in a world where everyone else is so easily wrong. All of us looking for something more. Better. Free-er. Right-er.
A little bit lost, most of us. A little bit bamboozled. Unsure. Unsure and beautiful. Unsure and strange. Unsure and almost there, but never quite there because ‘there’ will never be a place we can find on a map. And if we do happen to find it, we don’t want it anymore because ‘there’ always looks better from ‘here’.
Nothing’s certain. Nothing’s true. Nothing’s right, nothing can be. Ever. Not when all our eyes are made from different shades of wonder. Different shades of serious. Different shades of true.
But one thing I do know is this. Life is beautiful. Precious. Mine. Yours. Ours. It’s safe and it’s unsafe and isn’t that the point? Isn’t that the beautiful part? The not knowing. The being here, the never really knowing where ‘here’ is?
This was a little experiment where I wrote.
A little experiment that will go on. And on. And on.
All the days of my deep-diving- human-life.
It’s beautiful, what I am.
What I am.