Work. Love. WOrk. Love Work. Love. doing and doing to be busy with my hands and full in my heart. take my ears and whisper me of what to do with my hands day in and day out. i wish to be a vessel for truth and love. i will not try but wait patiently for the push. i dont not fear of a late arrival, it is always just on time and i am open. i am ready. when you call i will answer without hesitation or fear, i am ready.
love is not near or far, it is here. i am here.
reminding myself of who i am. who am i kidding, i barely know how i am or how i am. i know some truths and i sense the presence of others, this is enough to keep me alive and to try, to try real damn hard to separate myself from worry and ego and stress and to see the true nature of all that is.
So many voiuces ringing in tonight. What do you think? Tell me youre fucking story and all you have pent up in you...it's worth my time and my thought but please leave at home tyhe biggotry and deeply inbred patriarchy that youre dad told you was OK. I want to learn and I want to watch the ones around me bathe in the depths of the seas that are kept wet with love and all the tears that were wept to understand that love.
I have issues, yes i do. I dont have an open mind ready to be filled at all times of the day. My advice drys up and my patience gets stuck somewhere between here and now but listen i shall, even when my insides are unsettled and all I can do to keep present is focus on the moon and let your words pass through my ears. Love is something I am learning slowly, I'd be lying if I said everyday I walked out of the house with intention to do all that needs to be done. Sometimes I see what I need to do and ignore for lack of will, lack of want, lack of love. But I try, most days I try real hard.
Mty community needs truth. My friends need truth. My family needs the truth. I need to speak and steadily whisper parts of the whole I know to be full. Only than will we, as a people group, know true unity and individuality simultaneously.
Distant stares. Long drags of a burning cigarette. Watching this Thursday night unfold in front of me, removed enough to observe without uncertainty. My body flopped on the edge of a windowless window sill, barely inside and just outside. Still, maybe even peaceful to the world but inside I was pushing out drops of sorrow, slowly pouring from my ducts to my cheeks and down my neck. The moisture of my sorrow mixed with the perfume dabbed around my neck created a sweet, sad aroma of patchouli, salt and sandal wood.
Fear for the preservation of my body, mind and soul, caused overwhelming sadness to erupt. Love has always made me cry, even in its purest and most happy forms. Love is strong and insists on emotion and laughs in the face of logic. Logic within love is possible, it takes practice, though. On this night I was unprepared for the thought process and only able to know my heart so dearly. I welcomed, with a weary soul, the emotional love and all the angst that it gifted me.
There was something else as well, something that just flopped over and went to sleep on me that night, something good and whole that decided to not be conscious. It felt like death and abandonment, whatever it was was good and left me! Sometime I find myself without, having misplaced the okay, not replaced, just misplaced it like an important set of keys. Knowing I may never be able to open what I needed to again, and i died a little inside.
So I sat and experienced old and new memories of love and its bitter grace. and I mourned the absence of the unknown good inside of me, half hoping for its return. I let the city walk all around me and near me and feel me that night, but took nothing from it. When you have nothing you have nothing, no more shame, embarrassment or fear exist. It was nice, the waves of emotion came and than passed long enough to feel just enough of nothing for just long enough.
So much of me has been kept inside for so long. I share, but only in very small, safe ways. This week I'm realizing how lonely and selfish it is to keep my words and song and art so far inside of me that even if it does escape it's murky, unrefined and only at a tenth of it's potential. Shame and fear have shrouded my being from the time I could remember experiencing.
My dad would throw away the gifts I gave him, always small things like flowers or drawings but they would always make it in the trash before he ever uttered a word of appreciation or thanks. I can remember balling my eyes dry on the floor, asking my mom why would he do that! What I gave him was clearly beautiful and why did he hate me and what I made?! I was so young than, I was four and he was thirty.
For awhile there I had a step dad, he stuck around not so long but long enough for me to grow in the ways he saw me. He disliked me and my body. Constantly I was urged to work out and stop eating so much peanut butter and god, elise why are you such a pig all the time?! I was seen as a threat to his happiness because of my existence. If i kept being overweight and unhappy around him my mom would need to spend more time with me, give me more love that he thought was all his. So he solved the problem. He took care of me and all my problems by convincing my mom militant berating and arbitrary rules would whip me into happiness, a smaller waste and ultimately I would leave him and my mom alone. I was always in trouble those days. I could do nothing right and wasn't given a single chance to try, if I tried that was too much effort on somebodies part to support me so I got in trouble for trying to do good things. Eventually I gave the fuck up and forgot myself, forgot myself in food and self hatred and eventually gave up all that was my own to any man that would have me. My voice, my song, my words and my love were silenced by another man.
It's taken me my whole life to be able to reflect on these things in a way that is not self destructive. It's taken me my whole life to have the courage to even think about allowing my voice to be heard by anybody but my angry reflection. This is me being a little less afraid today.
Skin's bleak, body weak and energy dragging. I'm worried for myself and everyone. Last night scared me so much. Hoping, praying I wouldn't get harassed or followed or eyed. All I could do is hope and pedal real hard. Passing people and people in cars whose intentions are unknown. It has little to do with their dress or color but everything to do with not knowing. Gender plays a part in all of this, at least in my experience and opinion. I've only experienced cruelty and violence from men in my life, my experience has molded my fears. Theyre real to me...and so many others.
I wish you could understand. Thats asking too much...just sympathize, thats all. Hear me and listen to my voice, hear my weariness and uncertainty and know that youll never understand and don't feel bad or ignorant for that, just sympathize with me and my hurt...listen.
I've learned so much and have sorted through what fears are rational and which are bred from years of abuse or ignorance. I'm no longer afraid of men expressing their thoughts on my physical me, althrough I am uncomfortable with it and and almost always insulted and sad to be seen before I am really seen. My fears are of men who take advantage and make the choice to be vocal about my body in situations that could clearly be marked as dangerous for the woman involved, i.e in the dark, on empty streets, while im on a bicycle and theyre a motorist and they scream and honk and pull up far to close just to get a better look. Don't they fucking get it! They are the carrier and spreaders of fear in a world where a woman is just trying to live, to live! To eat and to shit and to pay all these bills and to laugh and to spread love and kindness and awareness, we're just trying to do all this and more. We have the right to safely, strongly and joyfully do all this and more.
So full right now. Full of hope, inspiration, anxiety, terror and life. I'm alive and want to take on so much, why can't I move forward. I need a project, a focus something so far removed from myself that I'm almost out of body when I'm working. Stale, stagnant air and sedentary life is munching at my bones and brain. Keep myself moving, going, feel the strain of forward motion through activities and adventure. Physical pain is simple. Mind over matter, I can push my body without ceasing. But my soul, oh my soul! How do you push something so abstract and placeless? Building up endurance and acceptance will lead me where? You can only keep saying I'm young and still learning for so long. Why, does it seem, that so many people relinquish the quest for knowing so early on? Settle, never will I. But mustn't I? People seem just as happy as they are unhappy all of the time. Happiness, then, is irrelevant when seeking. Happiness is just as much as unhappiness is, no more or less. So, it's not about happiness. It's about experiencing together. What you choose to experience is based off of available experience, exert choice over every situation but accept that choice has its limitations. No longer do I want to care for others for sentimental reasons but now, for the first time, because I realize it is the only choice I can make. Warm and fuzzy has faded, my love is available and extended often but only because it must be. Don't take that as being cold and shut down, it's just the only way. Disillusion robbed my heart of what really is. I give because I have. I cannot create intentions anymore or pull bananas out of thin air, they exist before me or they do not.
Someone, please, put a wrench in my hand. It's time to get greasy.
