I know you think I don’t believe in linear time…and it’s not quite that crazy. It’s not quite that at all…I believe wholeheartedly in the long and winding road…that’s the only thing that seems very apparent to me. But I can’t make sense of memory and I long so much for what is so irreplaceably lost that I speak in poetry to try to connect these circles that keep spinning but I don’t have any true answers. But time is such an illusion and I’d say that these two kids are still somewhere in the universe giggling and making pasta in this apartment by the train. Sloppy fingers and golden touches and a love that never really had time to breathe. That existed within the space between and was caught tragically in time. Always. And yet so eternal. It never really ended and it never began because love just pounds on your door until you finally surrender and see that it has wriggled its way into every corner of your soul.
And I think knowing who you are is the comfortability of being able to say I am no one. I don’t have an answer as to ‘who I am.’ I am infinite. I am nothing. I am what exists in other people’s mind and what exists in my mind and I am something bigger than objects and smaller than stardust and I am memory and I am presence and I am soul and spirit and body and mind and I am the most abstract thing. I am an adjective and I am a kiss on your cheek. All I have is poetic nonsense that doesn’t quite meet itself anywhere but in circles but that what I am. A circle within a circle.
Give up needing to prove anything to him or to yourself. Live for yourself, by yourself. But you cannot make him love you. He loves what he sees and you cannot close the gates or edit your true-isms.
The truest place of me is infinite. It is this and that and here and there and yes and no and it is all things and it is the connection between them where my essence lives. I am the thing that connects all the places I’ve been, all the things I’ve created, all the love I’ve given. I am the god of my own life. The connective tissue. I am the open vessel of a bundle of memories. Give your love away to the infinite.
And now I begin to pack. And I take you with me and I leave you behind. And I go for myself and I go because it’s time. It’s time. It’s always time running everything. A place and a time. Presence.
The past and the future and the present are in everything I pack. Everything’s covered in goosebumps of hope. And you’ll be where you’ll be. And who I am is everything. And I’m most likely wrong about everything. I am a wholly full and festering wound. Just because I’m about to change forever doesn’t mean I won’t always be this person. It’s infinite. We get stuck in such a small scope of life. Don’t even try to prepare yourself because the truth is, you can’t. Everything has value and everything has eternity. It’s hope in any direction. All directions lead back here. It’s not about here and there. It’s not about where you’re getting to and where you hope you will be. It’s only ever right here, right now. But that presence INCLUDES all other presences. Everything exists all at the same time and we can only ever see this temporal slice. You’ll always just be an open wound.
I am a compilation of all of me. Do not fear. You’re still here. All of you. You’re infinite. You cannot lose yourself, just discover new parts of yourself. Just open wider. Discover MORE but lose nothing. Trust in Time. But then there IS loss. Abstract, real. But the loss is present too. Call to your memory and you’ll be there in fragments. Call to the present and you’ll be infinite.
This is part of a new story now. I can feel it. It’s an and. There is loss AND eternal presence and they are threaded together by Love and Time.
I feel more full WITH your memory now. Because you are a gift now.
Pick what spirits will lead your story.
Accept all parts of the indescribable equation. You’re about to leap off a plane. You will change completely. You will lose everything. You will lose nothing. You will here, there and everywhere. You are what you are and you are infinite. Take all the pieces of yourself and throw them towards the sun. Leave what is lost and cherish what remains. Memory is a gift. The objective me is everywhere.
Don’t hold on to that glittering future, be where you are and be who you are and your life is a gift. Ride the fire.
Feel the tension and the meaning everywhere. Unroot yourself. And I’m even bigger than my memories.
I can’t really believe I’m here. But then some part of it feels SO true. LET the memories come back. Whatever they may be. Painful, beautiful, sweet. They are you.
Thought is the entrance to the infinite world of connection.
Whoa whoa whoa. What I’m about to do just hit me and I feel woozy.
Life is subjective. Memory is a gift. I can keep whatever parts of you in whatever fashion I want in this little piece of myself. Because all of us remains everywhere.
Falling in love actually closes you in some way, narrows your life down to one point, one being, one person. Breaking up opens you.
But the truth is, of all the places I’ve been…I feel most clearly myself in this place. In this place of love and belief and hope and wonder.
Some stopper has been released though…and now I can see my whole life. I’m open. That’s what it is. I feel wide open.
Trust in Love. She is the most talented storyteller I know.
The way that people can love each other…and how we can create such meaning is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
I would never wish for my heart to not cling to life’s meaning as wildly as it does- I give my world such intimate love and powerful meaning. I would never want it anyway.
We both got really bruised. Really broken.
Whoa. I actually just got a little terrified.
Only creatures like humans could pick out such moments in time and give them such meaning. Thank you for creating this glory.
Maybe if I scream loud enough I can stay in this moment.
It’s a moment in time that I miss. That I can never get to no matter what I write or how I love or what I think. How do humans ever deal with time? And this gaping wound in their chest. The loss is HERE. I FUCKING miss last January. I turn and I wish you were here on my bed with me watching me pack. This is what it’s like to care. It’s like a wound that will never heal.
You must train your intuition. You must trust the small voice inside of you
which tells you exactly what you need to say.
He told me one time he forgot himself
and his heart opened up like a door with a loose latch
and he tried for days to put it all back in proper order
but finally he gave up and left it all jumbled up there in a pile
and loved everything equally.
– Story People
What’s too painful to remember,
we simply choose to forget.
So it’s the laughter, we’ll remember,
whenever we remember the way we were.
“He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to
stand and walk and run and climb and dance;
one cannot fly into flying.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
“For the best part of 40 years she had genuinely believed
that not doing things would somehow prevent regret,
when, of course, the exact opposite was true.”
Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels
bending beneath her, still she sings away
all the same, knowing she has wings.