The Tenderness

Isn’t this absolutely it? Made better still by the promise of what’s to come for them. This is by artist Nana Bruce, whose work I return to regularly.

After the challenging last week, and the news from G@za on Saturday which resulted in an even more difficult weekend where everything seemed to converge, the new couple sat next to me yesterday, reminded me of how important it is to have hope in the absolute sh.ttiest times like right now.

These last few months have taught me quite a bit, but most of all, they have taught me that I will never again place myself in spaces which do not fill my heart completely and totally. My entire family could die in a second – both sides. And what a disservice it would be for me to do anything but live as fully as I am able? With people – romantic and platonic – who are nothing less than absolutely extraordinary. (With the caveat that what is extraordinary to me, is routine to you. And vice versa.) Our lives are too precious for anything less, and I lost that somewhere in the last six days.

It is a gift to be here, and though I have never been one to ignore this, what is happening to my family has made this clearer still.

Though my resilience feels quite low, I’m sitting next to A, we have music on and the boys are downstairs quietly playing. It’s a lovely night. I mentioned earlier that I have been out of body. But that’s in fact not it at all. I am entirely in body in a way I’ve not experienced before. Every part of this body’s ecosystem has come to life.

It’s incredible. And insane. And wild. And surprising. And euphoric. And when I think of it, my body responds and my heart drops and I catch my breath.

And I am not even fully experiencing life because I have to contain myself. I have to contain everything. Lock it down, until the Universe decides otherwise.

To remind myself of love – the only protection which exists – A and I reread the incense(d) heart. I thought I was writing about love then, I was not. I was writing about toxicity and pain; I was writing the opposite of the lightness and tenderness and hilarity which love in fact ought to be.

I realize that love is in fact to cede all control. And it must be unconditional. I love you, period. Not when; not if; simply now as is. The rest is up to the Universe. It is to be foolish and to believe that everything is possible. It’s the reason the world can be so so so good, and kind, and gentle. It is to deep-dive into the lushness of being alive.

For the first time in 49 years, very specifically and clearly, I am pushed only by softness. Love is in every driver. I am in a space that is healing. And protective. Strong. Sexy as sh!t. I need to write this piece to remind me when I forget. To remind myself that everything is okay, when I cannot pull it up naturally.

I have an envelope into which I drop secrets. Things I do not wish to forget. Things I would only whisper in bed. I don’t know for how long I will do this, or what I will do with all of the secrets – like all matters, the answers will come from the Universe, and I accept this unconditionally.

For now, it is as much an envelope for secrets as it is one reflective of hope.

I am grateful for tonight’s exhale. alhamduliLaah.

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