Epiphany.
Sometimes I think things to death.
I went outside by myself with my cd player and stood in the side yard, staring up at the sky and hoping nobody walking by would call the cops on the weird girl standing barefoot in the yard, staring at up the sky.
The sky was bright but I didn't think the sun had risen yet. I stood there in a hoody and felt the wind blowing through my clothes, felt the chill of the breeze and the dew on my feet. I watched the sky and listened to 46&2 and just felt the moment. And then I thought:
So what? So what if things change? You adapt, you change with them. You don't have enough time to just sit and let things pass you by. Embrace them. Seek new experiences, new thoughts. Change isn't bad. Feel. Try.
So I felt. I simply felt. I watched the wind shake the branches of the trees and felt the cool air all around me. And I realized:
You think too much, you make things too complicated. It's really very simple. I'm inside you, I'm always inside you and I've always been here. You're wrapping yourself in blankets and then complaining that you can't see me - just take the blankets off. It's simple.
I felt soothed. I realized this was true. And then I closed my eyes and fought off my self-doubt and stayed in the moment. I went into myself.
Goddess of this wind and of this earth, goddess of the water and the fire and the spirit, goddess within me, I welcome you. I embrace you. Goddess of the divine, of my hands, of my blood and my uterus, of my lips and my tongue, of my hands and my feet and my tattoos and my hair - goddess of everything that I am and everything that is - I embrace you. Take me back.
I opened my eyes again, feeling elated. I crouched down and placed my palms flat against the grass and closed my eyes. I concentrated and I could feel the grass crinkling beneath my palms, the dew wet on my skin, the pulse of energy within the grass and within me and within everything.
Thank you. I will come back tonight with my watering can and give you my blood, my gift to you in return.
I stood up again and looked around me. I thought:
I am the grass, the trees, that human I see walking far across the street. I am the cars and the concrete and that spider I saw in Australia. I am the dew and the ocean, the wind and the clouds, the fire and the earth. The same energy moves through us all, we are all energy that moves from one form to another. The same molecules that form me form everything, we are all the same. I am a tiny part of an enormous, beautiful, wonderful cycle of energy, shifting and changing.
Then I felt a little like crying with joy, but it passed. I looked up at the sky and the clouds were lit with brilliant pink. It felt right. It felt like a confirmation of what I had just learned.
I walked around my building and picked up little stones that wanted to be in my mosaic. I saw an earthworm out in the middle of the parking lot, covered in asphalt dust and seeming distressed, rolling around with no obvious destination. I picked it up carefully and brought it to the grass, knowing the dew would get rid of the dust and now it wouldn't be crushed by a car. The earthworm would be safe.
I'll be safe, too. I think that my thoughts earlier were flawed; boxes are comforting and familiar, but they aren't safe. We're energy and we are meant to flow and change and adapt; we're not meant to stagnate. There is safety in learning and changing, because it is what we're designed to do. It's our purpose.
Wow. Just, wow.
I went outside by myself with my cd player and stood in the side yard, staring up at the sky and hoping nobody walking by would call the cops on the weird girl standing barefoot in the yard, staring at up the sky.
The sky was bright but I didn't think the sun had risen yet. I stood there in a hoody and felt the wind blowing through my clothes, felt the chill of the breeze and the dew on my feet. I watched the sky and listened to 46&2 and just felt the moment. And then I thought:
So what? So what if things change? You adapt, you change with them. You don't have enough time to just sit and let things pass you by. Embrace them. Seek new experiences, new thoughts. Change isn't bad. Feel. Try.
So I felt. I simply felt. I watched the wind shake the branches of the trees and felt the cool air all around me. And I realized:
You think too much, you make things too complicated. It's really very simple. I'm inside you, I'm always inside you and I've always been here. You're wrapping yourself in blankets and then complaining that you can't see me - just take the blankets off. It's simple.
I felt soothed. I realized this was true. And then I closed my eyes and fought off my self-doubt and stayed in the moment. I went into myself.
Goddess of this wind and of this earth, goddess of the water and the fire and the spirit, goddess within me, I welcome you. I embrace you. Goddess of the divine, of my hands, of my blood and my uterus, of my lips and my tongue, of my hands and my feet and my tattoos and my hair - goddess of everything that I am and everything that is - I embrace you. Take me back.
I opened my eyes again, feeling elated. I crouched down and placed my palms flat against the grass and closed my eyes. I concentrated and I could feel the grass crinkling beneath my palms, the dew wet on my skin, the pulse of energy within the grass and within me and within everything.
Thank you. I will come back tonight with my watering can and give you my blood, my gift to you in return.
I stood up again and looked around me. I thought:
I am the grass, the trees, that human I see walking far across the street. I am the cars and the concrete and that spider I saw in Australia. I am the dew and the ocean, the wind and the clouds, the fire and the earth. The same energy moves through us all, we are all energy that moves from one form to another. The same molecules that form me form everything, we are all the same. I am a tiny part of an enormous, beautiful, wonderful cycle of energy, shifting and changing.
Then I felt a little like crying with joy, but it passed. I looked up at the sky and the clouds were lit with brilliant pink. It felt right. It felt like a confirmation of what I had just learned.
I walked around my building and picked up little stones that wanted to be in my mosaic. I saw an earthworm out in the middle of the parking lot, covered in asphalt dust and seeming distressed, rolling around with no obvious destination. I picked it up carefully and brought it to the grass, knowing the dew would get rid of the dust and now it wouldn't be crushed by a car. The earthworm would be safe.
I'll be safe, too. I think that my thoughts earlier were flawed; boxes are comforting and familiar, but they aren't safe. We're energy and we are meant to flow and change and adapt; we're not meant to stagnate. There is safety in learning and changing, because it is what we're designed to do. It's our purpose.
Wow. Just, wow.