For Carbon, respect is love. Action is adoration. Direct honesty is opening one’s soul.
For Lithium, love is intangible. An idea or a thought. An action is the manifestation of one’s intent.
For you, it is a dark wave undulating. A space where nothing is and nothing fills in the vacuum of that lack. For you, the unknown, love is space. Open, cold, and vast. An eternity of constant stasis and change.
For me, I only see the relationship of things. Love is parallel to fear. Peace is to pain as hope is to fear. Not opposites of but reactions to or against. Omnidirectional like an explosion or gravity. We can neither dive in nor avoid it. Steeped like tiny tea bags, all of us.
If the earth is a marble and the moon is in its place — we are arm’s length from it. And yet, it pulls my body around. Pulls the ocean up and down. Pulls at the heart of us.
The sun is four miles away, approximately. And it is the only reason I can wake, stand, breathe. It is my force of energy. The hand that strums my body, makes chords of harmony vibrate with chemistry within me. I am a reactor because the sun is my first lover.
First and last. I will naturally return to being no more than a thought of its warmth when all my energy has been dispersed into other things. Nothing created or destroyed. Transference is inevitable and good.
This is my body, take and eat. This is my blood, take and drink. This is my life, take and be.
I am working on morphing my saviour complex into a pattern of what I both give and take. It is not easy because I was brought up to “save”. To sacrifice. To give without end.
I realize the fault of that.
Nothing is created or destroyed. Nothing is saved or lost.
We are beings not with a burden, but with mass and specific gravity. We move in circles around the core of reality. Orbiting with orbitals. The whole of existence moves. Until it doesn’t anymore.
I am learning to accept this before my time comes to fade so I can take that gracefully. I still, probably, need many years to play it cool at my own death scene.
I probably still won’t. But I think I’m trying.
Funny things to think about on American Thanksgiving.
I’m just thankful to be alive and know some scraps of the depth of what that means. And I am happy to do it beside the “you”s that I do. All of you.