We trust fall every day.
You know that place between wanting to completely erase every possible scenario you imagined to actually trying to make one of them happen? That is an unnerving, yet a good place to be. It reminds you of your humanness, your ability to feel, process, want, and ultimately attempt to make a space for yourself in a world that makes you small and invisible.
To love again, and again, what courage! What a possibility we make for ourselves to trust that our hearts can grow and take and hold after feeling the ache of finality. Yet this place/these places take time to reach. Sometimes we tell ourselves we must’ve done something. Surely we scared them away…somehow, right? Because why else would they not see our effort to add beauty into the unknown?
And what if we said out loud what we knew yesterday? How our gut weighed heavy to catch our attention but we were too busy sucking it in, holding the grief dying to get out? What if we trusted that changing our minds and letting it roll off of our tongue is the exact way to experience duality? What is so scary about expansion? Do we not see our skin stretch for our bones? It’s also okay to be wrong.
Everything is always going to feel urgent. In this instant could you hold time between your fingers and say, “this is important to me”? What would it look like for you, if you told the truth more often? Where would it rest in your body? What color is the release? I assume for us all it is easier to check off an item from our to-do list instead of welcoming serendipity.
Our eyes rest in the backs of our heads worried we might get played again. Wanting to be loved and be loving is a desire that never goes away. It hides under the tongue and traps the words. We learn to mask the yearning by making thicker skin, checking off to-do lists items, and blocking ourselves from ourselves. We’re not ready to admit this is self-harm.
And then, we decide something’s got to give. The wrinkles and greys coming in faster and the cracking of bones match the echoes of a clock. It’s not fun anymore and it hurts too much to not let it out. We either explode or try, slowly. We fiddle and dance our way back into our bodies, into our feelings. We un/learn the behavior that got us here. You tell yourself, who I am is worthy of love. Who you are is not hard to love, and in this journey, we trust fall every day.