Don’t hang yourself on the noose of someone else’s attachment. It’s nice to feel needed but nice is an illusory trap. You are the sand and the ash inside a dormant volcano. You won’t be held inside a fist or even an embrace that breaks at the first sign of heat.
Do not shatter over the sound and fury that is the face of a person’s humanity turning on itself. You are not glass, not paper, not wood, not stone. You are the center unbound, holding the chaos outward. You are the eye of the universal storm. You won’t be snuffed out by a few angry breaths.
Don’t string yourself together on other people’s definitions. Those thoughts are full of knots, ones they’ll never care to disentangle because they’re about someobody else. You are the water of churning whirlpools. You won’t be contained in a net that tears and loops so easily and is discarded like straggling threads.
Do not find yourself in tatters when toxic thought and poisonous words infect your being. You are not the wastelands laid bare in these fumes. You are the chemistry that gives everything a place, a season, an identity. You are all that was and also all that comes after – the death, the survivor, the guilt, the redemption and the reprise.
You are more than can be imagined. Take the rest of your life to find out what all.
You may look back more often than the world tells you that you should. You may linger in places you’ve already spent too many dark moments in, with no increasing clarity. Why did she leave? Why did he stay silent? What were they thinking? Did they ever consider how you feel? Do they ever think of you?
Your past-diving may be more than your body can bear, even if your emotions are hungry. Your gaze may sear across unresolved incidents and unnamed feelings, seemingly never reaching conclusions. Why. When. What.
You may plumb all these depths over and over because you are the boundless universe. Your life has had fathomless lessons that are too big, too nuanced, too glorious and too stark to keep up with time. It is true. You may need to read a story again to make sense of it. A joke could make you laugh no matter how often you hear it. And a song may ring on in your head for years without your ever understanding its words.
Maybe some day clarity will come. Maybe the answer will materialize in the sky that you look up to, for guidance or the sea that you gaze at, hoping for a reason to hope. Maybe knowledge will find you in a book or a conversation or a new teacher. Or maybe the lessons will just seep into your skin, more mist than rain and settle on your bones.
A lesson in letting other people live out their crashes. A lesson in not get hit and run over. Lessons of goodbye. Lessons in silence. Shh.
You can look all you want. Underwater, no one hears you scream.
A steady gaze is also a cocked gun. This gaze makes the world go silent, words dropping away, identities falling away, sounds melting away and all that exists is that tenuous link held by eye contact. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. These windows pull you in just as much as they penetrate your being. You cannot touch without also being touched. This touch your skin won’t feel but everything inside you will.
There is a wealth of perceptions that lies buried under good manners. There is yearning, unreasonable. There is rage, unconscionable. There is desire, filthy, savage and uncontrollable. There are screams that merge need and satiation. There is worry, seeping into the cracks between the best laid plans. There are war cries that are claims of identity. They lie shuttered behind blinking eyelids and wavering gazes. And when you make eye contact, you will see your pretty covers taken down to wash. Laundry day for your insides. You will feel the rain and you will be the clouds and you will see it all.
It will be hard to remember the boundary between you and me and the world and them and sense and feeling and structure when…when you look straight into these eyes and they look back at you. You are simultaneously witness and the witnessed. The audience and the performer. The existence and its perception.
It takes two to create and not even a fraction of a second. And it takes one to break it and we always do. Because this game of identity & eye contact is one that we all like to play. Just until we remember that when those eyes shut, there is only darkness.
I’ve written reams and reams about home – going away from it, running in search of it, how it defines me, how I define it. I am a Cancerian, after all. We make this world feel like home. Maybe not entirely coincidentally, my contribution to International Poetry Day 2019 was also titled HOME. This video was shot and produced by the fab team at kalArt (who also produced my GODDESS video). Please watch and if you like it, leave a comment here or on the video.
Do you remember that place? A time when every emotion was a Picasso painting? Vibrant jealousy. Mind-bending joy. Lucious fear oozing through pores. Jarring ecstasy coating the roof of your mouth, the back of your neck and the inside of your navel. Crippling wonder that made you want to stop and hold the cosmos for as fleeting a moment as one lifetime would be.
Yeah, I’ve been there. We all have. Most likely we glimpsed it now and then as children and were told it was all fairytales and horror stories. And then as adolescents, it burst upon us suddenly. That one moment when we suddenly attained puberty. Or fell in love. Or watched someone die. Or didn’t fit a favourite teeshirt anymore. Or saw somebody else’s name written, emblazoned in a place that used to have our own and feel like home.
I was in that place all of the last month. It started with a new year resolution to be easier on myself, to relax some of my fear fortresses. Maybe it was the years I spent inside and that it was time to come out. Maybe it was the sleep-deprived, alcohol-soaked advice I received on New Year’s. Maybe it was just that person. Maybe it was me.
I’ve been feeling so much, struggling to set one foot before the first, walk in a straight line, act the part of the intelligent person I have enacted for so long that I forgot it was a part. I forgot I’m not meant to walk or even run. I’m meant to fly. I forgot that sky and water merge in my universe and I have always been a good swimmer. I forgot that I’d closed my eyes because the last time I glimpsed beauty, I thought it destroyed me but really, I only closed my eyes. I opened my eyes and look, the world is in HDR again.
This piece is a writing experiment. Tell me what you think. ==================================================================== They pause in the middle of the restaurant. Then he walks off towards the toilets and she chooses a seat. She sits on one side, checks her phone camera then moves to the other side. By the time he returns, she has settled in, […]
You should smile more, women are told, it makes you look good. This is said as a compliment but is erasure of the person & her emotions. What if she doesn’t feel like smiling? If you’re not a woman, try smiling at someone you don’t like or in a situation that causes you distress. Smiles must […]
Do you remember your last kiss? Everyone remembers their first, like we remember our landmark birthdays. But kisses lose their significance as we get older and more experienced in matters of touch. As our social rituals morph, we find our notions of personal space shifting. Once we gingerly raised clasped hands for a rendition of We Are […]
I met him at an event I was hosting. The growing crowds and reactions told me I was doing well. It was welcome respite from the morning’s fight, a common occurrence in the horror story I was living inside. I was aware of him through the whole day, even as I juggled conversations and thoughts, feeling the […]
January was an interesting experience, as regards matters of the heart. Interesting, I say, as a way of deflecting the bad-taste-in-mouth feelings that came up. In December I found myself catching the feels for someone I’d known casually for awhile and not given that much thought to. That is not so long ago but given […]