listening to nature

I hear the birds and I hear the branches
I hear the vehicles and I hear the leaves
I hear the people, the animals
and the machinery to keep us cool
and still
I seek to understand, to objectify, to name,
to satisfy my mind.

When my mind nudges in
for a turn at the microphone
she reminds me, again,
of past thoughts, past concerns
and future anxieties
I am trying to let fly away with the birds
I cannot see.

I hear these sounds,
I hear the music they orchestrate
but apart from the trees and leaves
I cannot see their sources.

I cannot see their source
and yet they are there,
they still reach my ears
somehow.

They come and go,
bending off and into each other
seamlessly
as if following a score
or being led by a conductor at the podium.
They trust in each other.
I close my eyes, expand my ears,
trusting the sounds will reach me
in nature’s perfection
without a need for rationality or manipulation.

Imagine, just for a moment,
the freedom, the weightlessness,
the joy,
of trusting that life will unfold as it is meant
if we are open enough
to hear it
to receive it
and to accept it.

my unique spirit animal

The animal I was least expecting
came walking toward me
along the path in the clearing
slow, but strong,
large, but gentle.

It was a rhinoceros
so surprised was I
that I tried to re-enter my conscious mind
to think of a different animal,
to create it into being
in what was supposed to be my subconscious.
Before I had the chance to receive the message
I wanted to turn it away,
trade it in for something else,
something prettier, more feminine,
more socially accepted.

Instead,
my subconscious prevailed,
reassuring me that this animal before me
came to me with a purpose
I would learn
if I gave it space to speak, and be.

The rhinoceros stood before me.
He did not speak,
but instead just stood there,
silent, observing,
a calm presence he provided.

I began by looking up at him
from my position on the ground.
He stood tall above me,
lowering his head
I stood up to stand beside him,
still he did not speak.

I felt heat radiate from his body,
how his skin felt soft and ruthless
all at one time.
I watched him turn his head toward me
connected his eyes with mine.

He spoke through energy what could
not be spoken through words:
Be bold like me.
Be solid like me, in who you are.
Be gentle as your nature.
Remember, you have weapons
to use when you need them.
Be strong in all of you,
not only in the weapon.

He reunited me with my inner energy, my inner core,
to be solid and confident in who I am,
to take up space in my power,
to be rare, unique, off the beaten path of common perception,
to be gentle, in mannerisms and beneath my tough exterior,
to remember my inherent strength,
to stand tall in my being
and my innate ability to stand up for myself.
I am a force to be reckoned with
and I, of all people, should never forget that.

He stood there beside me, still, but breathing,
passing me all the wisdom I needed through
the air we exchanged together.
My hand reached out to connect
with the tough, thick, wrinkled, leather-like
texture of his skin
and I hear him exhale.

Perhaps not the most visually appealing
in comparison to the animals who hold more femininity
and beauty in their mythology,
but he came to me,
he was the first I saw
and the only animal who came naturally
to me in that moment,
subconsciously.

He needed to find me
and he did.
He carried a message
like no other animal could.
He was meant for me,
and I for him.

broken record

The record spins.
Always spinning, it never stops
because it’s broken.

Spinning inside my head, inside my chest,
though at first the music sounds beautiful,
it’s off-key.

Spinning before my eyes
the people, creatures,
juggling balls flying through the air,
everything is moving.

“By trying to control everything
you end up controlling nothing.
Not that you can control anything, anyway.”

The record keeps spinning.
The record keeps playing.
Broken.

desire for new music

Narratives cycling over and over in my head
like records on repeat
continue playing in the background
despite attempts to press stop,
pull the power cord from the wall,
destroy the battery.
The songs keep playing.

My attempts to play a new song, or songs,
of a different genre
are acknowledged, briefly,
but cast aside in preference of the old and familiar.
Why do I do this? How?

I devote my being to this cause,
to make it through one, two, even four songs at a time,
slowly rewiring,
building comfort with new genres,
new artists.

It will take a long time
to sever and rebuild,
but I can see a light shining
on the new music, waiting to be wired into me,
and it’s beautiful.

changing the inner voice

The voice in my head
barely recognizable as my own
reminds me of my flaws,
paints my shortcomings,
whispering, “you can’t do this.”

Today I refuse to listen,
turn the volume down to a 1.
Forging ahead with ambitious purpose,
the only voice I hear today asks only one question:
“what’s next?”
This, then that, then that.

If I commit to believing in myself
my inner voice will follow suit.

emotional storm

Riding the waves of emotional lability
makes my soul weary.
How many hours of turbulence
must I endure
before the storm passes?
Fighting against the waves
brings more exhaustion than acquiescing
but even still,
I collapse, depleted of energy, at 10 AM.

I submit to the emotional storm,
praying,
I retain enough strength to stand again
when it clears.

end with me

Most of what I live in fear of,
in the shadows of anxiety
are circumstances fabricated by my mind.
They come from within me,
my own doing,
and break me.

If they come from me
they can end with me too.

vivid dreams

I cannot remember a more vivid dream
than the artistry
which played behind my eyes
as the morning sun slowly adorned my eyelids
and danced with me.

You danced with me.
You held me, listened to me,
and it felt so real
I could feel your skin on mine,
I could hear your voice, familiar.
It was as though you were waiting for me,
like you have been waiting for me
all this time,
more than I deserve.

Then, simultaneously
my eyes open and well with tears, to realize
it was all in my head.