I know what it's like to hide.
I know what it's like to keep things quiet, safe, and still.
I know what it's like to not say the thing I want to say.
I know that fear.
That raw, aching possibility that things are not okay.
The fear you'll think I'm weird.
The fear you'll think I'm crazy.
The fear you won't love me the way I think you do now.
I learned to be quiet because it was easier.
Well, it used to be easier.
Now, the stories come rolling out.
Insistent. So insistent.
The words fly from my mouth before I can tame them or temper them.
Before I can dress them in prettier phrases.
(And why would I?)
I can see your story too.
I can see how you dance around its corners.
You show me the patterns, its shape, and how it fits on you.
You show me the way it should look to others.
You show me the reflection of others.
You show me just enough.
But it's not everything.
Let it out.
Tell me everything.
I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was I couldn't feel my fingers, but my heart was trying to push its way out of my chest. I was not alone in the circle, but I was separate. I was between myself and myself.
Swimming and rocking and unsure of where to put my hand to steady myself.
And then I remembered.
I placed my right hand across my heart and my left on my lower stomach. Settle, settle, ground, breathe, come back to yourself.
I didn't realize I was entering the story of my life for the past two years. On this somewhat secret, often mysterious, always revealing journey, I started by looking in the mirror, by being willing to open my eyes and see what the reflection held. I looked and saw the things I didn't want to see. I faced them and began to love them anyway.
The more I looked in the mirror, the more I began to love myself. And I fell so deeply that I became swollen with possibility. From there, the bright spirits of my unfolding began to emerge and dance within my life.
But then I was swept away.
I moved into the sensuality, the reconnection with my erotic self and my creative, divine spark. I moved out into the natural world, the green world, the world where my awareness opened up and found joy in the dance of the leaves. I moved into the wildness, the fierceness, the committing to myself and to others around me.
This has been the story of my life, for more than two years, but as I stood outside the ritual circle and realized what was happening, I found myself being swept away. And while I didn't realize it then, I was returning to love.
All comes from love, all goes back to love.
I will return to the mirror, I will look into it, break it when needed, and be swept away again. I know creation stories will continue - and repeat and recycle.
Love is the story. Love is the answer. Love is the question.
Love is the law.