One morning I awoke before dawn and padded out into a frozen field, wrapped in a winters blanket. The ice was fierce on my naked feet,
but I wanted to know the cold.
When I reached the center of the field, I sat in its darkness and waited... until even the sound of my breath was a hush that couldn't be found.
I waited until the emptiness grew so achingly vivid that it broke my heart wide open.
Hot tears pooled the well of my eyes, and spilled down icy cheeks, and words poured out into sound like a child to this looming silence…
"Why do you hurt yourself like this? When you are the only ONE? Why if there is only THIS, would you ever cause yourself pain? Why?? Why would you hurt, and steal, and call yourself names? Why would you be so cruel when it is only ever you?"
And the grief broke my heart open wider
until there was no heart that remained, but an ocean of grief that was somehow more beautiful than anything that has ever been known.
And the silence began to gleam as the dawn broke the blackness of the sky into light, and a knowing arose in that silence that had no use of words.
But the fullness of it grew so thick, that it could not help but bubble up into language—
"It is for the full of experience, my love. It is for the full of yours. It is so that I may know the taste and texture of kindness—so that I may revel in love and compassion, having known their bitter opposites. This ineffable grey can only be defined by the contrast of experience, and without it, nothing would be known at all. No struggle, no story, no adventure, no life. Experiences you call "bad" and "good" are the threads in this infinite tapestry, they are a beauty you will not know the sweetness of until opposites cease to exist."
The words hung in the air for a moment and evaporated into the mist of the morning sun…and with them went the idea that there was ever a voice that was separate from the one who was spoken to.
It was on that day that WONDER took the place of should-ing and regret, a wonder so gut-wrenchingly alive and free that it constantly burns itself down to the ground, just so it can see what is left.
What is left is something only the word 'Love' can even begin to capture,
but it will do.
It will do until words are seen to be play-clothes for this fullness that has no beginning