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Always in progress. Always in work. Always becoming.

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WEAVING

DISJOINTED

THOUGHTS

lydia

Allow yourself the satisfaction of savoring something so pure. Imagine: a colony of bees nurtured the honey tantalizing your mouth. Consider how you grew and developed through a similarly continuous period of nurturing. How your kin foraged among the flowers for you, and then you grew to forage for yourself. Thick, opaque globs of fear must have pooled in your gut when you finally left home, aware of time’s fragility. Can you recall how solitude tasted at first? If you yearned to prolong it. Or if suddenly, that home-feeling begged for your return?

ásta

Allow yourself to sway along to this memory. Think of the last last time you shared a song with someone. The last time you glanced across the room and shared in a collective note of recognition. Drink up the feeling; saccharine and sweet. Linger on this memory, as if melting honey on your tongue.

lydia

Allow your breath to quiet your mind. Let it slow the rapid syncopations of your heart. Let it ease your fear of falling. Remember that you can be anything. You can be a song, swift or slow. You can be a melody, smooth or rough around the edges. You can dance to your own tune. Now recall what it feels like to dance with others. To share a song, to smile.

ásta

Allow yourself to then become the whisper. As you move forward, feel the softness flow through your movements. Let yourself be carried along by this breath.

lydia

Together we can see to it that this softness becomes heft. As we rid ourselves of past participles, we amass a language for our futures. Acknowledge with a glance toward your rear that you are free to move ahead. Collect disparate elements from your surroundings. Combine words to tell stories. Imagine what you have yet to discover. Of course, your ghosts will come back to taunt you. Of course, the darkness will reemerge. But remember you can feel your way into seeing, into knowing. Light a candle. Let it whisper.

ásta

Together we can take comfort in the slow progression of our becoming. I feel as if I can say goodbye to the person I was before. I’ll thank her for her time but bid her farewell; let her incessant unease find a resting place. I’ll light a match to my self-doubt and begin to shed my insecurities. I can feel myself becoming lighter with every layer that falls off. The world doesn’t feel quite as heavy as it did yesterday. My steps are becoming softer.

lydia

Together we can arrive at acceptance. As you nod toward the moon, I might nod toward the clock. But this time, I won’t scoff at the audible tick and tock. Instead, I’ll take comfort in the slow progression of our becoming. I’ll outlast the instantaneous flood of regret. I’ll devour the total length of a day, where I get to see and hear and touch. Take a moment to trace the texture of the carpet beneath your toes. How it twists and turns like waves.