- 12 Dec 2019 -
An exchange I don’t care to forget.
I’m talking to a man, and I tell him,
“You have a huge light in you. You know that, right? Yeah. I already know you know that.”
And of course he knows it.
I’ve been telling him about how he’s okay, that the past isn’t here. That he can do anything he wants, right now. That we can’t stop bad things from happening, or change how people will treat us, but we can choose how to respond to whatever happens. That we can change our experience. That when the past repeats itself, we can heal it. I’ve been encouraging him to focus on others. Reminding him that the only thing he can surely do wrong is not love more. This positive speak has become another nature, a semi-typical banter of mine.
I begin to find some of my words getting through. Not only to him, but reaching to me. Comprehension is descending under layers of the repetitive, weighted vocal noises that hold no meaning. What is awakening is a resting awareness of understandings and feelings that extend beyond my linguistic capacities and have no physical representation. This is an awareness that can only defined as an experience, one that feels that it is not subject to laws of time, it is neither ancient nor new, while homely and familiar as though it has been here and never left.
A shroud of fog and headaches hiding in the outer rims of my psyche are noticed. They subsequently dissipate into nanoparticles and evaporate.
Amidst this newfound head change lingers that ever present fear of appearing “untough”, vulnerable. Opening my heart by speaking of such soft things as love and care leaves me feeling potentially susceptible to attack, exposed where sharp evils can prick the places that are usually under the protection of years of inner walls and defenses.
exposed and speaking of such soft things as love and care. This is my fear of rejection for reaching out, of judgement, of repercussions from the mistake of changing ones opinion of me. … as if I were an alien dancer, rocking rainbow sleeves walking into a stuffy grey courtroom. The fear of being stricken by a deaf ear as a connection closes, when the repetitive game of sounds ends on a final note.
That silent tension grows quieter and fades as I observe through changes in how he’s fixed his face that he has had such thoughts about caring and loving before That his heart is waking up to this too. He tells me what he plans to go out and do, remembering what he really should be doing and what he will be doing and how it will affect the lives of others, whether they realize it or not. While we’re exchanging these words, I’m starting to taste that scent of a fragrant essence that is lighter than air. I’m starting to remember this sensation when it really sinks in that, it really is all okay, when it isn’t just words anymore, it’s the truth, the only truth there could ever be, because you know the only thing that matters is that you are here to love this moment.
Those little celestial sparkles of possibility start to electrocute the air, charging up the spaces in between the connections that bind molecules, the loving familiarity of this tangible, almost physical perfection.
And now I look at him and I say these words, that he is a bright light. I say them with an urgency, a necessity, a conviction, a yearning, a plead, in unformulated thought that is crying ‘Please, please hear me! I am reaching out, you have to know, I love you! You matter so much, please see that. Please see how worth loving you are. Please see how amazing and beautiful you really are, my heart cries out in agony for you to bear witness to this with me. Please look past these rough thick physical misinterpretations of structured impersonal language to listen to what I am trying to communicate under the surface. Please feel what it is I truly mean for you to hear. Thank you for being such a bright light, thank you for your existence! Thank you for existing!’
Perhaps an exchange of true communication occurs, where he sees that I am reaching out, past my own insecurities and fears, beyond my own walls to tell him what I am afraid he may reject me for, but that I care about him enough to speak.
And then, reality changes…in progress..