attempts at meditation

I sit cross-legged on my living room floor with eyes closed as I search for my center, holding rose quartz gemstones in the palm of each hand. I imagine healing energy flowing from my hands straight to my heart as I look inwards and outwards through my third eye in search of messages, signs, movements, colors, sparks, really anything but darkness. Then suddenly I see very faintly, the image of a door and the shadow of someone dancing behind it.

Blackout.

Next I see dancing rainbows- an explosion of orderly colors continuously moving parallel to each other, an infinity of joy and happiness. I start laughing at the silly nature of these images and immediately I understand what all of this means. As I sit in stillness alone with my sadness, I’m being told to lighten up and not take everything so seriously.

And so what if my heart broke? How great to have loved so much!

And so what if he left? I’m never really alone.

As these realizations dawn on me like soft rain, I  start to sense hundreds of people sitting in a circle around me and I feel so much love and peace.

And in that moment, in the silence, cross-legged alone on the floor of my living room, I understand that I’m safe.

I’m protected.

 

 

shedding

I have cried on the wooden floor

beside my dresser

my hands caressing the imperfect object with love

I have cried on the sofa,

head buried in pillows as my mouth

gasped for air

and silence

I have cried on my bed

and on pages scribbled in black ink

my tears distorting my words

turning them into strange shapes-

this one, a boot

and that other one, a star

I have cried at my work desk, right in front

of the computer

and on the massage table so many times

now I’ve lost count

I have cried while riding my bike-

I can’t help it

this mountain town used to be yours alone

but now it’s become mine.

 

Only mine.

 

I have cried on runs around the lake, while

chopping vegetables, and a handful of times

on first dates

I have cried in the public bus,

most often behind dark sunglasses but

in front of strangers who’ll never

know my name-

which to me seems strange.

we have shared so many of my tears

together.

I have cried as I stood held in long embraces

by those who I can sense feel bad

for not having the right words to say-

they still haven’t learned that

there are none.

I have cried as my face seemed to freeze

distorted with pain

and as my voice escaped from me in the shape

of a scream

the only sound I can make when nothing

makes any sense

and not always, but sometimes

I try to muffle it so the neighbors don’t think I’m insane

I think that’s ok-

the screams are not like the tears.

I have cried over both

death and life

and all the words I can no longer write

without hearing his name

I have cried in planes and

in cities far, far away-

enough to know that my tears will always

tag right along with me

the saddest carry-on.

I have cried in the arms of my mother

a few times but last time

was on top of a carpet covered with crumbs

which gave me a kind of sad comfort-

to know I wasn’t the only thing broken

lying there.

I have cried until lashes fell out

enough of them for the entire world to make wishes with-

because the lashes

(it seems funny to say it now)

wanted nothing to do with my tears

and I can still remember the first time I cried

in front of him

my hands on my face and then, his

I hid in shame because back then

I didn’t yet understand

that tears

are just feelings I haven’t learned how

to write down

yet.

 

But I do know how to cry now.

 

and someday  I’ll learn to write the tears away

but even then I’ll know

it will only be because

I

have

cried.

 

 

HOW

Ealy life crisis.

I’m sure such a thing exists. How else can I explain what I’ve been going through this past year? Everything that I thought was important, suddenly appears not to be so. A definite and clear shift in my values and even some of my personal qualities has taken place. Yet I sit here facing the sea and have no more tears to cry, no more “whys” to demand from life.

The past few days I’ve had short encounters with locals that made me realize some things. One man, while sitting at a bar, spoke to his friends as he sprayed himself with cologne saying: “I’m already ugly and poor. I can at least smell good!”

Today, the vendor who rents beach chairs decided that he would help me get a cab from the beach by all costs. He stood attently looking at both sides of the street and calling the attention of every cab that passed by, until he finally got me one. I had already paid him for my chair and stool for the day and I never asked for his help hailing a cab. Still, once he put his mind to help me, there was no stopping him. He did it willingly, with pride even to be able to help me.

The taxi cab driver who drove me to a salon yesterday told me that he lived in a big city before moving back to Maceió, where I am currently living. When I asked him why he moved back, he said: “There was no beach there. A day at the beach, with the sun, and the cold beer, and that delicious fish one can get! It’s too good, there’s nothing better than that. How could I stay in the city?”

Simple.

Have I just been complicating my life? Pushing aside the things I love for grandiose ideas of what my life should really look like?

It’s not about what we’re doing with our lives; It’s about what we do when our life isn’t going the way we’d hope it would. All these men have taught me this lesson these past few days.

Now when I sit in front of the ocean thinking about the mess I’ve made of my life, instead of asking WHY, I’m asking HOW.

How can I begin to be happy again?