in a heap

Moments like this one, when I am turning back and looking at the past.... Everything I have kept with me is invisible, and all I have lost is material.....so when I find a lost video of Chaska and Persephone, and of moments and people and things that are no longer graspable, the landscape of sorrow is baffling.
It feels like I am carrying them all inside me, invisibly except for the lines in my face and the bent posture of my shoulders. It feels like I consciously forget and then, then all of a sudden it is all there, and scars are bleeding. All over.

This after a day when I feel like I am carrying all of Sydney and all of America on my back.

There have been a few moments intermittently appearing when the stress or the suffering or the bleakness is just enough to push me in to letting go. Just for a moment I can allow pain and disappointment to take me under, but in a way that allows me to breathe. Like freedom. Like it doesn't matter what happened or happens or is or isn't. It is all just BEING.
Is that the purpose of this? Is this ultimately why something inside has driven me to this edge? Is it my self trying to meet my self?

I still promise to stay open. I still promise to stretch open further whenever I find it possible. I still promise to question cynicism. If it breaks me, if I lose sanity, if I am taken advantage of...I still promise.
My decision from childhood remains, possibly it is the decision from birth, the one of my lifetime. I can only be raw and full and sensitive.

Ugh. Even now when it hurts to be so.

love
love
love
love
love
love