Oh miraculous Christmas. How did I get here? What magical arrangement of moments brought me to this bliss? All the people in my life who have tossed me into the golden light…who have given me and received me and all the places and the moments in time that we have breathed into life…I am grateful to every bit of recycled magic that has filled my lungs with breath.
And above anything in the world is love. And my inner child is just running rampant through beautiful memories and lost moments in time and misty glittering light and I am here in my room surrounded by everything. Everything. I am so glad I am a hoarder of things…it brings me close to myself. I am surrounded by pieces of myself. They are real and physical and they all connect me to this world of memory that swirls around my every finger tip and wraps itself up in my hair in bows and in tiny laughs that linger in the dust. I can’t figure out anything. Not a single bit of this world. But I like to think I have my own subjective words and truths and bits of magic that light up my own world. I have words painted on my wall and there is a tree that moved me deeply as a child displaced somehow…from its flowering beauty to a 2 dimensional representation on the wall…still unfinished…snow is falling outside these tiny old windows and I am laced in this indescribable love. No need to tie any of this beauty to any singular words- makes the edges of something white suddenly churn with colored words. I’ll stay white and snowy inside my room for a few days. Let everything trickle out. Let me family heal my broken edges and let me love radiate through them. Give it all love. Everything. I’m left with the same conclusions over and over…and today…I have no conclusions…I have joy in my heart…the kind of joy that could never be translated into letters and syllables. And whatever journey my mind takes…all the angles and patterns I find, dilute and destroy…they are all my path home. I am home. I am resting. I am healing.
I hope anyone…anyone reading this right now…takes a breath in to feel their own magic air within their own perfect lungs. You are beautiful.
I’m living my OWN life again. MY story.
Well heaven only knows
That packages and bows
Can never heal
A hurting human soul
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown up christmas list
What is this illusion called the innocence of youth
Maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth