Matters of the heart / break the spell

I was born with a hole in my heart. 
I had jaundice at birth.
As an infant, I was admitted to the hospital frequently.
As a child, I had problems with the valves, and I ended up seeing doctors frequently, being in hospitals almost regularly, often poked around for all sorts of tests, having needles and whatnot injected in my system.

At the start of each scholar year, I would hand in a report from the doctor to school stating that I can not participate in any physical education activity. 
There was a period in my life where I had to go to a nurse living in the neighborhood, to get my regular injections. My mother wouldn't give it to me herself, although she worked as a nurse at one point in her life and she's well capable of doing it. I can't begin to explain just how painful all of this has been, on a soul level, but I accepted it all gracefully. She is mother, and I loved her. 

I would faint at stressful events, stressful events often meant a crowd of people... I remember my older brother frequently being the one jumping in to take me to the doctor or hospital.
When I turned nine years old, echo scanning came to the picture, it was bad. I had been so used to the heart tests by then, but the echo meant they applied a very thick gel to my bare chest, and I have started to become so shy and conscious of my growing body. And then there was this hard hand held tool, pressing it against my chest, sliding it too through the gel, so that they could see the heart state on the screen. It was very uncomfortable and invasive. I used to cringe, feel violated, and needed prolonged hours of comfort. In my head, it was a game we were all playing. That was not what was needed truly, for my heart to settle, but I played along, what else was there to do, I was only a child.

My heart was fine really, I could feel it overflowing with love, it was just not the case with the world, and I became lost. Abundance seemed to be illness, and scarcity normal. 

I learned how to shift the sail on this journey, soon after 
My first husband's name means "heart", he's the most heartless person I have ever encountered. 
Life is funny this way.

So much so, that when a supposedly very dear friend replied to one of my statements regarding a very important topic to me with "matters of the heart are luxury", I knew this was another joke of life. Him from all the people knows just how much I'm made from love, how that making has made me go through everything I went through. He was an eye witness to how someone can suffer from loving too much...

Matters of the heart are essential. 

Love is essential.

(to be continued...) 

Trojan horse

The truest thing to write today would be the saddest. 
Must I resist the sadness still, after a lifetime of grief?
It was born with me, or I with it, and the unfolding of life's miseries, tragedies and "misfortunes" are but a mere icing on top. 
My most purest essence feels orphaned, long before I lost my parents, very short after I was birthed. People come in and out of my life, and sometimes I am more diligent in fine tuning my choices and going through my keeps than others. Sometimes people are treasures, and other times Trojan horses. 
In order to remember my essence, I had to forgo doing all I have been doing in my lifetime as an adult. I am a pure being, with less resisting, and more openness to the flow, I allow everyone and I everything to just happen and exist, and I pick and choose what I allow close to me, and I go where I'm naturally pulled. 
An orphan, though smart and diligent, is prone to being manipulated. An orphan does not have a backbone, a safety net, a support system and so be default is a very vulnerable target, and niche. 

The truest thing to say today would be that I was never loved truly. The pain that I have always felt towards people parting was the non existent interest in homing me, in me, with me, instead finding solace for their many pains, imperfections, scarcity, lack of... whatever they lack of. And that perhaps the attraction was always one of interest, of what could be gained, and doesn't my looks show it? the openness, the extra weight, the softness. People started to call me cute lately, what the hell is happening? Me is not cute, me is hardy and serious and solid, but perhaps being too tired after this rollercoster of the last 3 years, is starting to give me away. Cute is appealing, cute is dangerous, very dangerous, but what's more dangerous, is just how clear it gives people away too, using it. 

The truest thing to say today would be that I carry my home with me wherever I am, it is a heart filled existence and it eminates warmth and is inviting, and though I housed a lot in it, I am now beyond tired, for this house needs cleaning and cleansing, and there is pain in an empty house, because of many things, but maybe only just solely, simply because, I was just born this way. 

The saddest thing to say today is that I am ready to leave life, should a destined accident happen, a failure in body organs, or a mere coinsidence, and the saddest thing to write better yet, is that chances are I would be burried by the very people I lived my life avoiding, for lack of authenticity and honor. Only one thing remains solid to sum up my existence up till now, the love I have for my father, and him for me, and I miss the life when he was around, though he would leave me lead my own life, his mere presence worked as an achor, and ever since he left, I seem to be floating, and often times drowning. 

I need a big gasp of air, and proper rest. 

The truest thing to write today would be that I am lost, and though I am sometimes found, I lose myself in the very finding, for I do not know how to lead a life feeling contained, safe. The saddest thing is that the truth is ugly, cold and bare, and that people don't care for people, nor know the love language, or its essence, purpose, and ways. 

A lost, starved orphan is dangerous to him/herself.
I feel danger, 
I must escape, 
but I am beyond tired, and a hard, weighty pull towards the bottom may feel like an anchor, and I could stay a little longer in this delusion that resembles safety, that reminds of me of Him, and the warmth and the belonging. 

The truest and saddest thing to write today is: Papi, I miss you, I am lost. 

To write again, truly

The aspect of me that connects with the man in my life is missing. Perhaps I need to integrate that part of myself again, connect with it, listen to it, get to know it all over again. There usually is softness, ease, flow, and I haven't been any of those in a really long while. I've met so many people in those almost 3 years since the separation with Chris, but I haven't been with a man I could match with, on a relationship level. It's being extremely hard to get myself to acknowledge certain truths, let alone talk about it, but I grew so tired from pretending, pushing, empowering, distracting myself, and getting sidetracked. Tired too from resisting the sun, the sun is good, so is the light, just like the truth. 

I took me a good few hours to get myself to write this post, and I hope I will keep it. It's about time I write in the way I need to exist; raw.

I'm unable to tell the reasons for my hesitation, all those months and years, but I sense fear. I must delve more into that soon, so that I can remove these obstacles and allow the flow.

I'm often embarrassed of feeling too much, it has always caused me troubles, but then again, avoiding living my truth has resulted in me being utterly and hopelessly numb. 

I will start to write more often, not necessarily regularly, but as often as I possibly can. I will write as open, as mundane, as eloquent, as deep, or shallow as I could, I will not apply any judgments anymore in how things should be expressed, how they come out, how they might be perceived. and I shan't worry myself with how I am being perceived. 

The essence here is to live my essence, everything else will just fall into place. 

I've wasted so much time already. 

In a typical Chris manner when he used to encourage me to do something that might sound or look reckless, which would be exactly what I needed to do: 

"Let's do this shit, baby!"

Ocean of Possibilities

 I discovered Estas Tonne, I'm hooked. 

Watching and listening to him play is doing beautiful things to my mind. 

My heart is aching though, my soul is troubled. 

Summers are always so very tiring... I'm exhausted, beyond words. 

I need a cocoon, comfort, blankets, and softies. 

I need soft everything, for a little while anyway. 

I've been everywhere, doing everything. I need to pause, but the sun won't let me, summer days and nights are extreme. I need a little break from extreme everything, including my very own existence!

You know what happens when your only way of being is through forced resilience, out of a survival mode strategy? You lose touch with what you truly like / want / need. I've forgotten how to be at rest with things, situations, myself. 

Though I'm not doing much today, my core is restless. My inner voice is screaming madly at me, it wants out, it wants to be seen, mirrored, touched. 

Today I am sad. Being a full time mother can be crippling, and running a business even more so, and being all those things for all so many people is oh so draining!

I need Estas Tonne, like my need for breath of fresh air, and the end of summer. 

A vast universe

I could write this entry in a hundred different ways. 

I could write about the person I have in mind, I could write about encounters, perceptions, experiences, insights. 

Better yet, I could write about potentials. 

I could write about crying, over the past. 

I could cry too, I often do. 

But I will not. 

This post is about everything that I can not write about. 

There has been a massive expansion inside my chest and being. I couldn't, even if I tried, to put that into words; my writing skills and vocabulary haven't expanded as much. 

For a long while now, there has been plenty of new little sprouts and growth inside my being, I wasn't able to catch up with the documenting of it. 

I'm holding a vast universe within me, it keeps expanding, and my heart can't help but to crumble, cry and surrender at the beauty of its very existence. 

Sometimes too I fear it exploding, or I. 

I wouldn't want for so much beauty to disappear, but I'm surrendering to the notion if it all coming back again, like the mysterious ways of this whole existence. 

I am crying now. 

I often cry. 

But this post isn't about me, nor my tears, nor my perception or experience. 

It is about that magic which has decided to visit and stay a while inside of my chest. 

A vast universe indeed.