My love, you are free

A reminder I often need

Dear love,

Today, I hold you in my lap and turn towards the sky. I let our feet fall at right angles, touching the damp soil beneath us. We share our love for the sky, and for the bright new leaves and branches that block our view of it. Love, you are me. The child in me, the adolescent in me, the many many versions of me that have existed through time. You have been a yogi, a tyrant, a revolutionary, a farmer, a doula, an earthen pot. You are also the big bang and the first ocean, the first sun, the first fish that swam to the shore. You are its sliminess and the malleability of its spine and its big round eyes. You are the first bird and its innate desire to fly*. You are the seed that has been growing roots and is beginning to sprout. You are the essence that prevails, that finds its way back to itself even after your journeys of being lost.

You often forget, so I am here to remind you - You. Are. Free. You are free to rest, to pause, to play, to grieve, to be, to sit, to fly. You are free to create new paradigms just by existing as you. You are free to look at parts of yourself that you still haven’t learnt to love, the parts of yourself that drop bombs and hurt endlessly because they are too afraid to confront their own darkness. You are free to see. To hold your gaze and let it change you - let it enrage you, let it shake you, let it soften you, let it remind you of your essence. You are free to feel - grief at the places that you could never make your own, at the wounded masculine that has been taught to keep doing because it is in charge instead of resting because it needs desperately to pause, to slow down and see the wake of its own destruction. You are free to let your roots join the mycelium of the earth’s wisdom. You are free to create. You are free.

So, lay still in my lap and let us look at the sky. Let us remember that its vastness, its immensities, its ability to shield, its possibility of being one with the water and the dust and the sun and the air are also us. Let us create possibilities of pause and intention. Let us create possibilities of space.

Love,

me

*Grateful to Laura Storm for the imagery of the big bang and the first forms of creation being me

Inspiration is also drawn from Liz Gilbert’s Letters from Love