Sometimes I lose myself. Sometimes I find myself. Sometimes I find myself lost… or lose myself found. I feel like all of these are true. And beautiful. Most of my personal growth, tiny epiphanies, and quiet catharses happen in the desert. I’m not sure why my heart has picked that place to love…but it has – and I do. I love the still chaos of moments so simple that life seems to melt away with no concern for time. I love waking up to the shrubs stretching under the dimming starlight and the steadily rising sun, burying my cold nose under the warmth of my blankets just enough so I can see. I love those reticent moments of introspection where a single tear navigates my cheek because there are simply no words for being broken open, authenticated, and raw.
I have realized that I no longer need to hold myself so tightly. I can breathe and live and love and enjoy with no other validations. Becoming a part of this universe makes me feel so small…but feeling the universe fills my entire being. The epitome of balance. And then there was a moment where everything felt so whole and so honest…there was no room for anything else. I gazed at the skyline above me. Right then. Right there. It was in that instant where my struggle with forgiveness diversified. Instead of forgiving every little detail and folly, perhaps I shall just forgive my past. This, yes this is the verification of my quiet strength and confidence in my pertinacity. I am a canvas of weaved emotion meant to feel and to feel so fully.
So I can sit. I can listen. I can be and accept. I can thank my body, my hands for what they allow me to do and where they allow me to go. And at the end of the day, when my feet are covered with dirt and my belly digests the love and patience from an earthy meal washed down with wine, I know that I know enough to want to know more.
© /skin/ /ˈpōətrē/