Sometimes, there is no “right” thing to say, or write, or speak — there is only the truest thing you have in the moment.
This quote comes from this piece from Lisa Olivera and I am here to hop on her bandwagon and discuss what is coming up for me now, because this resonates solemnly within me. Here are some of my Truest Things, as this is the most sincerity I can offer right now.
Deciding to write again now is terrifying and I am feeling afraid because somewhere along the line I have faltered in my belief of this publication.
I have experienced so much in the way of grief and mourning and holding space these last few weeks. For not only myself, but also for others near and far. For the war going on right now, for the lives lost, for the innocence lost, the misrepresentation of what is happening, and the danger so many are in (both here at home, and abroad) due to this ongoing conflict. I have recently come to visualize grief as falling upon itself over time. As new tragedies befall us, as we experience fresh traumas, the grief layers upon itself as rock does. Eventually I know that certain pieces of my unresolved grief will resurrect, reassert — almost certainly in ways I am not expecting, fossilized.
Feeling heartbroken yet in alignment with myself, I have been looking inward so often and feel as if I am rooting around for the core. Dare I say I do feel closer than I ever have felt before.
Engaging in practices which are intended to create miracles has made me believe that so much of what happens to me is a miracle. I now believe in more magic.
Self care is taking many forms but I can’t express what they are. Walks, maybe. Longer showers, sometimes.
Some reprieves: Cleaning my floors. Watching two movies in a row. Painting my nails a color that isn’t black. Skipping parties. Getting sober. Celebrating. Celebrating. Celebrating. Planning a get together. Planning a poetry reading. Planning a date. Riding the hay ride. Thinking about making an apple pie. Skipping it. Again. Shaving my legs. Regretting it. Putting things back where they belong. Praying. Watching the sun set. Dancing and kissing. Screaming and crying. Wanting to get outside, but admiring the sunshine from my room instead. Listening to the same song again and again.
I wish to ask for longer hugs. I wish to spend more time with myself. I wish to read my cards again. I wish to record my music that I created. I wish to pause time sometimes. I wish to melt into someone. I wish to covet. I wish to work hard. I wish to focus. I wish to eat. I wish to teleport. I wish to wake up in the middle of the woods, coffee on. I wish to break wide open. I wish to deepen all of my relationships. I wish I could wish away the war, the killing, the trauma, the hate, the regime, the polarization, the power.
What I’m placing here, it’s all true but it is such a small slice of what I would like to share. I promise I am trying to write more, but I also feel the need to hole away, to hibernate, to mourn. To be in community. To be held.
It is okay to be hurt. It is okay to take care of yourself. It is okay to keep dancing. It is okay to cry. It is okay to be angry. It is okay to get back into bed.
I am dipping deeply into what I can only describe as love. I don’t know what else to say about this except I feel it everywhere.
Take care of yourself, stay true,
A
If you can (and I hope you can) call your representatives to urge them for a de-escalation and ceasefire in Israel and Palestine. May we see justice, may we see liberation, may we see peace.
Another token: