Showing posts with label passion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label passion. Show all posts
Monday, February 23, 2015
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Thursday, February 19, 2015
She fell
She watched as it all fell away from her. Her life. Her loves. Her feelings. Her hopes. Hope was a bane to her existence. Her friends said she wasn't the same. She wasn't. Her dad was sick and her mother was lonely and she felt like no matter how hard she tried, she could never ever possibly be enough. Her husband and daughter looked upon her with shame and embarrassment. She folded into herself more and more. It was the only place that was safe. Away from shame. And yet she felt an oppressive sense of guilt over her withdrawal. She felt that she was only failing more and that continuing to fail was the only option for her survival. And the only thing she was good at was failing. She fell and she watched herself closing up. And she eventually disappeared.
She saw the death of love and people
She was just looking for some peace in another long day of turmoil, rejection and frustration. She lived in a house where the walls were made of disappointment and the air in the house was heavy with disdain. She wanted some space from it all. The house was starting to feel like the holding cell that they keep you in before they take you to the asylum. She decided she would run. That would help to get her out into the world and into nature, there was a community bookshelf on the route that would make her insanely happy and she could channel some of her anxious energy.
He insisted he would go. She protested. Running was a solo activity... kind of like life, she supposed. But she acquiesced because she really wanted things to be good and they got in the car. They didn't make it three blocks until he wanted to know which way they were going, which seemed fair. Straight and then left, she replied. And then which way were they going, he asked. Park on St Lawrence, she replied. He asked what was wrong with her. Why was she irritated. He was asking which way they were going to walk. She told him that she didn't know. She thought it was another question about general direction since there hadn't been any mention of the context of the question changing. Arguing ensued. Loud voices. Hurtful, hateful words. He turned the car around and he put in his earphones so he could shut her out. He slammed on the brakes in the car on an empty road while going 40 miles an hour. She was thrown forward and afraid. She asked to be let out of the car and he yelled at her to get away from him, over and over. She was terrified and at the next stoplight, she exited the vehicle and started walking to her original destination.
He continued on his journey and she continued on hers. She tried to call him and tell him she was scared and he said she was a liar. She walked. And then she ran. She listened to sad songs, but she also reveled in being able to listen to them as she had been mocked and shamed for them before. She knew that they both hated her. She knew it with all of her heart that they hated her with all of their hearts. She knew that every breath she took was a blemish on their happiness.
She ran. She walked. She sang. She cried. Horrible things were sent by text. Lies were spoken. He said. She said. And she walked and she ran. She was alone in the dark and she was both terrified and relieved. She sat and wondered how things had come to this. She cried and she cried and she ran. She watched every car that drove by, and there were many. She hoped he cared enough not to leave her out in the dark, but that was her problem.... the hoping. She became increasingly unhinged, angry with herself and prayed to nothing that she would just disappear. Cease to be. And she walked and she ran.
He was home. Making dinner for his family of two. He sent messages with feigned language of care. She replied angrily. And she walked. He had left her. Abandoned her. Physically. She prayed to nothing again for another life. A life where she wasn't a liar and a nigger and Gone Girl. But he insisted she deserved all of that because he had been provoked by the storms in her heart. She walked. Miles passed and eventually, out of guilt or whatever, he came for her. He pretended not to know where to go. She didn't believe him. She was the kind of girl who was always where she said she was. She was not Gone Girl. She walked. He arrived after 4.4 miles of darkness and she climbed into the car.
She walked into the house and was strangled by the hate and despair that hung heavy in the air. She went to the garage where she had slept the weekend before and she sat. She sat and she read. She was cold and sore. She was emotionally and physically wrought. She surrendered and went in the house, overwhelmed as she moved through the space where she didn't belong. She sat and she read. And then she slept.
The sleep was ugly. She dreamed of death of love and people. She had fits. She cried. She threw up and she saw the death of love and people.
He insisted he would go. She protested. Running was a solo activity... kind of like life, she supposed. But she acquiesced because she really wanted things to be good and they got in the car. They didn't make it three blocks until he wanted to know which way they were going, which seemed fair. Straight and then left, she replied. And then which way were they going, he asked. Park on St Lawrence, she replied. He asked what was wrong with her. Why was she irritated. He was asking which way they were going to walk. She told him that she didn't know. She thought it was another question about general direction since there hadn't been any mention of the context of the question changing. Arguing ensued. Loud voices. Hurtful, hateful words. He turned the car around and he put in his earphones so he could shut her out. He slammed on the brakes in the car on an empty road while going 40 miles an hour. She was thrown forward and afraid. She asked to be let out of the car and he yelled at her to get away from him, over and over. She was terrified and at the next stoplight, she exited the vehicle and started walking to her original destination.
He continued on his journey and she continued on hers. She tried to call him and tell him she was scared and he said she was a liar. She walked. And then she ran. She listened to sad songs, but she also reveled in being able to listen to them as she had been mocked and shamed for them before. She knew that they both hated her. She knew it with all of her heart that they hated her with all of their hearts. She knew that every breath she took was a blemish on their happiness.
She ran. She walked. She sang. She cried. Horrible things were sent by text. Lies were spoken. He said. She said. And she walked and she ran. She was alone in the dark and she was both terrified and relieved. She sat and wondered how things had come to this. She cried and she cried and she ran. She watched every car that drove by, and there were many. She hoped he cared enough not to leave her out in the dark, but that was her problem.... the hoping. She became increasingly unhinged, angry with herself and prayed to nothing that she would just disappear. Cease to be. And she walked and she ran.
He was home. Making dinner for his family of two. He sent messages with feigned language of care. She replied angrily. And she walked. He had left her. Abandoned her. Physically. She prayed to nothing again for another life. A life where she wasn't a liar and a nigger and Gone Girl. But he insisted she deserved all of that because he had been provoked by the storms in her heart. She walked. Miles passed and eventually, out of guilt or whatever, he came for her. He pretended not to know where to go. She didn't believe him. She was the kind of girl who was always where she said she was. She was not Gone Girl. She walked. He arrived after 4.4 miles of darkness and she climbed into the car.
She walked into the house and was strangled by the hate and despair that hung heavy in the air. She went to the garage where she had slept the weekend before and she sat. She sat and she read. She was cold and sore. She was emotionally and physically wrought. She surrendered and went in the house, overwhelmed as she moved through the space where she didn't belong. She sat and she read. And then she slept.
The sleep was ugly. She dreamed of death of love and people. She had fits. She cried. She threw up and she saw the death of love and people.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Monday, February 2, 2015
Elephant Journal: This is how to love a Leo
By: Bryonie Wise
To love a Leo—madly, truly, deeply—takes one hell of a determined heart, for she is as wild as they come.
In her commitment to ever-evolving and ever-transforming her self and this world we live in, she will push and pull—she understands that any life worth living well must be built on a solid foundation of truth and so to love a Leo, the beating in your chest must be strong and you must know how to root down and stand your ground.
Her ways, which she learns as she goes, will shake the dust until everything that does not belong falls away—and at times, this might mean she pushes you away, too.
As fierce as she is, hidden in her heart of hearts is a too-big doubt that she can be loved completely and so be prepared for her to bare her teeth if you get too close to the place where she hides her fear; this is both a test of your intention and a way to keep her sacred heart safe, for to love Leo, you must love all of her and the most-vulnerable parts you must love most of all.
There will be moments when the need to race through the jungle (or around the world) takes over and she will bolt, with no explanation (she will try to her best to tell you why, but how a Leo lives is through feeling and even though words are a part of her craft, in these instances, her wildness can find none); and so she will go, her mane flowing behind her, soaking life in through all of her senses for she must do in order to understand how life works—and when you find yourself feeling forgotten, her heart will beg you to be patient, for she will return to you as soon as she can, panting and heart pounding, full of all she has learned.
(A Leo is loyal and understands that before she can show up for the one she loves, she must first learn how to show up for herself and it is through this strengthen of will and compassion that she asks you to invest your trust in her; for while her heart holds love for all beings, the kind she has for you will move mountains and light all the stars in the sky.)
She needs this freedom to feed her creativity and she will look at you with her knowing eyes to see if you see it all, too, for because she is who is she is, she will want you to be who you are, too—nothing more, nothing less.
She knows the unsaid things—the ones we hold onto as our mouths move and the opposite words fall from our lips, instead; she will often get alarmingly still and this is because she needs to in order to hear it all. In the hush, she will gather information and file it away, for if a Leo is anything she is organized and everything has a place (and there is even a place for things-that-don’t-have-a-place).
To love a Leo, understand that her lair must be in order before she can do anything; her mind is the largest of libraries, for she is of this world and many others, and there is always work and learning to be done. (In fact, it’s likely that if find yourself in love with such a creature, your brain might roar at an incredible volume, too, for this is one of the locks your key must slip into in order for you to be an imperfect-perfect match.)
Before she can settle her attention on you fully, everything must be in place and then she will curl up, serene and surrounded by her furry beasts, for she speaks all tongues—and maybe, if the day is slow and the moon just right, she will purr as she waits for you to crack your chest open and show her your raw, beating heart.
(The idea of this might make you recoil, but please know that she has made it her practice to spill open—and so while she doesn’t expect you to make it yours too, there is a certain kind of give and take that offers balance to every union. So, from time-to-time, honor her—and more importantly, you. Show her that thing about you that you’ve taught yourself to hide away, for I can promise you that a Leo will not shy away and she knows in every stitch of her bones how to love like the ocean.)
She will transform what she has learned in these moments of deep listening into wisdom, and as she gets older, she will learn how to rule herself accordingly. It is likely that on her path, this one that has no footsteps to follow; the one she designed for herself back before the start of time, that she will fail many, many times. She will be uncomfortable in her impatience and when you stop by for a visit one night, you may well find her in pieces on the kitchen floor, her body not able to lie or to hold it all in, tears and snot running down her face—and here is where you will witness the strength that vulnerability brings.
(A Leo has shown you everything in this moment, for that is what she is here to do. She will stay there, and ask you to stay with her, until it is time to pick herself up, again. Your presence will fill her heart with gratitude, and she may even slide her hand into yours, or lay her head on your shoulder, and let out a mighty sigh—she is shy when it comes to this sort of thing—accepting the support she so desperately craves and fears, so let it unfold, slowly and carefully.)
You will hear rumors about the lioness you have your eye on; they will say that she likes to be the center of attention and that she demands riches and gold. They will say a Leo is happiest with the weight of ten thousand jewels around her neck and that her ego rules her heart—and they will tell you that this feline is proud and does not like to be reckoned with.
In everything, there is a grain of truth; trust that the one you love is as rare as they come; her heart rules all and so that this can’t be argued with, she will wear it, without apology, on her sleeve.
She will yearn not for a castle on a hilltop, but for a cabin in the woods, so that she can sit by the river that runs through the land and listen to the lessons the four directions has to share. She will bow down and touch her forehead to the ground often, in an act of reverence, gratitude and prayer—and she will understand that the breeze that whistles through treetops carries with it messages meant just for her.
She will need just-enough to sustain a simple life, for a Leo knows that richness lies in the slow, humble moments of laughter and figuring it out, together. She will feel like royalty if you return from a walk in the woods with a handful of wild flowers and if you take her on a date to gaze at the stars, she will devote her heart to you, and you alone.
She plays battle with her ego and with the years marking themselves on her body as time often does, she has learned how to tango with the righteous voice that can sometimes fight to be heard.
A Leo is prideful—yes—let not that pride be mistaken for anything other than the highest form of integrity; she will prefer quiet nights in to loud nights out and she will be happiest curled up with a book, for within the pages lies where her life began.
A Leo will make things with every blink of her eye and every pound of her heart, for she thrives on seeing the harmony of elements meeting and falling in love—and she will want you to find new ways to keep her falling in love with you, too.
She is stubborn—but she is kind and her compassion reaches to the far corners of the earth. In her heart, she holds it all; the joy and the sorrow, the laughter and the tears. As much as she wants you to wrap your arms around her and be held, she also needs long moments to hold herself, for a Leo feels so deeply at times she wonders if it is a blessing or a curse.
So to love a Leo, you must first love yourself; let the space in your togetherness be like the sea and in her rhythm, you will learn the meaning of a heart roar.
In her commitment to ever-evolving and ever-transforming her self and this world we live in, she will push and pull—she understands that any life worth living well must be built on a solid foundation of truth and so to love a Leo, the beating in your chest must be strong and you must know how to root down and stand your ground.
Her ways, which she learns as she goes, will shake the dust until everything that does not belong falls away—and at times, this might mean she pushes you away, too.
As fierce as she is, hidden in her heart of hearts is a too-big doubt that she can be loved completely and so be prepared for her to bare her teeth if you get too close to the place where she hides her fear; this is both a test of your intention and a way to keep her sacred heart safe, for to love Leo, you must love all of her and the most-vulnerable parts you must love most of all.
There will be moments when the need to race through the jungle (or around the world) takes over and she will bolt, with no explanation (she will try to her best to tell you why, but how a Leo lives is through feeling and even though words are a part of her craft, in these instances, her wildness can find none); and so she will go, her mane flowing behind her, soaking life in through all of her senses for she must do in order to understand how life works—and when you find yourself feeling forgotten, her heart will beg you to be patient, for she will return to you as soon as she can, panting and heart pounding, full of all she has learned.
(A Leo is loyal and understands that before she can show up for the one she loves, she must first learn how to show up for herself and it is through this strengthen of will and compassion that she asks you to invest your trust in her; for while her heart holds love for all beings, the kind she has for you will move mountains and light all the stars in the sky.)
She needs this freedom to feed her creativity and she will look at you with her knowing eyes to see if you see it all, too, for because she is who is she is, she will want you to be who you are, too—nothing more, nothing less.
She knows the unsaid things—the ones we hold onto as our mouths move and the opposite words fall from our lips, instead; she will often get alarmingly still and this is because she needs to in order to hear it all. In the hush, she will gather information and file it away, for if a Leo is anything she is organized and everything has a place (and there is even a place for things-that-don’t-have-a-place).
To love a Leo, understand that her lair must be in order before she can do anything; her mind is the largest of libraries, for she is of this world and many others, and there is always work and learning to be done. (In fact, it’s likely that if find yourself in love with such a creature, your brain might roar at an incredible volume, too, for this is one of the locks your key must slip into in order for you to be an imperfect-perfect match.)
Before she can settle her attention on you fully, everything must be in place and then she will curl up, serene and surrounded by her furry beasts, for she speaks all tongues—and maybe, if the day is slow and the moon just right, she will purr as she waits for you to crack your chest open and show her your raw, beating heart.
(The idea of this might make you recoil, but please know that she has made it her practice to spill open—and so while she doesn’t expect you to make it yours too, there is a certain kind of give and take that offers balance to every union. So, from time-to-time, honor her—and more importantly, you. Show her that thing about you that you’ve taught yourself to hide away, for I can promise you that a Leo will not shy away and she knows in every stitch of her bones how to love like the ocean.)
She will transform what she has learned in these moments of deep listening into wisdom, and as she gets older, she will learn how to rule herself accordingly. It is likely that on her path, this one that has no footsteps to follow; the one she designed for herself back before the start of time, that she will fail many, many times. She will be uncomfortable in her impatience and when you stop by for a visit one night, you may well find her in pieces on the kitchen floor, her body not able to lie or to hold it all in, tears and snot running down her face—and here is where you will witness the strength that vulnerability brings.
(A Leo has shown you everything in this moment, for that is what she is here to do. She will stay there, and ask you to stay with her, until it is time to pick herself up, again. Your presence will fill her heart with gratitude, and she may even slide her hand into yours, or lay her head on your shoulder, and let out a mighty sigh—she is shy when it comes to this sort of thing—accepting the support she so desperately craves and fears, so let it unfold, slowly and carefully.)
You will hear rumors about the lioness you have your eye on; they will say that she likes to be the center of attention and that she demands riches and gold. They will say a Leo is happiest with the weight of ten thousand jewels around her neck and that her ego rules her heart—and they will tell you that this feline is proud and does not like to be reckoned with.
In everything, there is a grain of truth; trust that the one you love is as rare as they come; her heart rules all and so that this can’t be argued with, she will wear it, without apology, on her sleeve.
She will yearn not for a castle on a hilltop, but for a cabin in the woods, so that she can sit by the river that runs through the land and listen to the lessons the four directions has to share. She will bow down and touch her forehead to the ground often, in an act of reverence, gratitude and prayer—and she will understand that the breeze that whistles through treetops carries with it messages meant just for her.
She will need just-enough to sustain a simple life, for a Leo knows that richness lies in the slow, humble moments of laughter and figuring it out, together. She will feel like royalty if you return from a walk in the woods with a handful of wild flowers and if you take her on a date to gaze at the stars, she will devote her heart to you, and you alone.
She plays battle with her ego and with the years marking themselves on her body as time often does, she has learned how to tango with the righteous voice that can sometimes fight to be heard.
A Leo is prideful—yes—let not that pride be mistaken for anything other than the highest form of integrity; she will prefer quiet nights in to loud nights out and she will be happiest curled up with a book, for within the pages lies where her life began.
A Leo will make things with every blink of her eye and every pound of her heart, for she thrives on seeing the harmony of elements meeting and falling in love—and she will want you to find new ways to keep her falling in love with you, too.
She is stubborn—but she is kind and her compassion reaches to the far corners of the earth. In her heart, she holds it all; the joy and the sorrow, the laughter and the tears. As much as she wants you to wrap your arms around her and be held, she also needs long moments to hold herself, for a Leo feels so deeply at times she wonders if it is a blessing or a curse.
So to love a Leo, you must first love yourself; let the space in your togetherness be like the sea and in her rhythm, you will learn the meaning of a heart roar.
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