I swallow the storm and lock the windows tight, terrified that if I open my mouth to speak the heavy truths of this life, the words will somehow take root in the soil and multiply the wreckage threefold. I have been taught that energy is a current that obeys the call, so I hold my breath, pretending the silence is a shield, keeping a lid on the bitter ash of those who came only to take and the distant grief of one I cannot fix. I play the anchor for everyone else while my own marrow thins, while my arm throbs with the quiet, exhausting war my body is fighting against the thief inside me. I watch the illuminated happiness of friends from the shadows of my own quiet room, aching for a heavy, protective embrace, a simple heartbeat to ground my tired bones, yet I keep the longing locked away in the dark, paralyzing my own voice out of a desperate survival instinct – convinced that to give this pain a name is to give it a permanent home. But a quiet,vital truth is breaking through the silence: giving breath to this grief is not an act of creation, but one of evacuation. To speak these words is not to plant a seed of negativity, but to clear out the stagnant weight of a house that has been sealed too long, acknowledging that energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed. Manifestation thrives on intention and focus, but this is a release, a necessary emptying of the lungs that converts raw pain into poetry, proving that I can speak the dark aloud without making it permanent, and that naming the storm is the only way to finally let it pass through me.
Tag: #heartbeat
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The In-Between Space
The world shimmered, not with visual distortion, but with an unseen energy that pulsed beneath the surface of things. I existed in that shimmering, that liminal space between knowledge and feeling, where the mind’s sharp edges blurred into the raw, untamed landscape of the heart.
It was a primal intimacy, a conversation whispered between my soul and the rustling leaves, the murmuring stream, the sigh of the wind. The oak tree in my backyard wasn’t just an oak tree; it was a stoic guardian, its roots anchoring deep into the earth, mirroring my own yearning for stability. The rain wasn’t merely precipitation; it was a symphony of release, each drop a tiny drumbeat echoing the rhythm of my own tears.
My emotions weren’t simply internal states; they were living entities, swirling around me like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, each one a fleeting expression of the world’s vibrant pulse. Joy wasn’t just a feeling; it was the sun warming my skin, the laughter of children echoing in the park, the sweet taste of a ripe strawberry bursting on my tongue. Grief wasn’t an abstract concept; it was the hallow ache in my chest, the weight of unshed tears, the lingering scent of rain on dry earth.
This in-between space was where I truly lived, where the boundaries between self and other dissolved. I felt the heartbeat of the earth beneath my feet, the ancient wisdom of the mountains etched upon my soul. The whispers of the wind carried secrets, and the rustling leaves sang lullabies that soothed my restless spirit.
It wasn’t always easy, this dance between knowing and feeling. The mind, with its insatiable hunger for logic and order, often struggled to reconcile with the heart’s wild untamed nature. But I had learned to navigate this terrain, to find a delicate balance between the two.
In the quiet moments, when the world was hushed and still, I would close my eyes and listen. I would listen to the symphony of my own emotions, the whispers of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the steady beat of my own heart. And in that listening, I found a profound sense of peace, a connection to something larger than myself.
This was my reality, a tapestry woven from the threads of knowledge and feeling, a world where the boundaries between self and other blurred, where emotions danced like fireflies in the twilight, and where the whispers of the wind carried the secrets of the universe. It was a world of primal intimacy, where I lived and breathed and felt the pulse of life in every fiber of my being.