Stellar Formation
Disturbance
Drawing inward
Collapse
Disorientation
Spinning
Heat
Finally…Eruption
Each almost catastrophic to mortals, but within the universe: Stellar Formation
Only after millions of gruelling years does the light then begin to shine. More bright and brilliant than ever existed before. Offset from earthly life. However an uncanny macro of all the processes she ironically parallels.
But oh what majesty results! Illuminating the darkness, chasing away the shadows. A gift to any who dare to peek up. To take in the once delicate stardust, acknowledging the trial and time to become.
How jealous she is of the satellites who get to zoom through the sea of wonder. On clear nights she can find both. The radiant constellations mingling with mechanical moving modules. What she wouldn't give to live up there too. Weightless and wandering, overwhelmed and in orbit. There's enough extravagance to eradicate error and worry and waiting and heartache.
Vibrant nebula violets splattered into infinity.
Falling back down to the ‘now’ where the soft sweet grass cradles her frame. The sun fully set, she finds Venus and Orion, old friends. With each passing moment, mesmerized by what she’ll spot next.
Eyes heavy, heart light, drifting off into the night.
Her Language
A spectacular invention, the five digits that dangle below her delicate narrow wrist.
Dainty and calloused
Scars and polish
The stories they tell
How familiar they know the water
Memory carved into each muscle
Bracing for impact, splitting the surface
Thrusting the rest of her body through the cold chlorinated wet
How tender they hold the rest of her
Softly quenching her legs with lotion
Gently manipulating each golden strand into place
Remembering how to play
How firm and steadfast they move
Navigating red spinning clay into wavy tall cylinders
Pushing and pulling to find a shape that matches her imagination just so
How expressive
The damn Italian genes exposing every sacred thought she attempted to shelter
Her hands, they gave her away. But only if one payed attention.
Nervous fidgets or longing pressure or tense fists or splayed with excitement
A mystery unless one knew the language.
Her language.
Which, half the time her own frontal lobe couldn't even translate.
Her body knew
And thats now she moved
Long abandoned the idea of restraining expression. It was hard enough to hold her tongue.
If one wanted to read her, to know her, to calculate her contemplations….
It was all there. In her hands, raised eyebrows, the tilt of her head, a twinkle or eye roll, the micro-smirks or pursing of the lips, and undoubtedly that big cheeks smile. The arch of her back, shifting in her seat, turning away…turning towards.
Even in an attempt to be stone cold, she couldn't stop breathing after all. Slow inhales or heavy swift sighs. If nothing else the ups and downs of her slender collar bones, framed by a scoop neckline was nothing short of a dead give away.
Zooming in, even the pulse in the pocket resting below her voice could spill her secrets.
When calm, slow steady rhythm
When heated, a little faster beat
When filled with joy, sporadic, untouchable, uncontrolled
In the end, she didnt really mind.
She craved the transparency she displayed to be captured
She craved to be seen and beheld without having to ask for it
She wanted the world without whispering a word
Her dreams on silent? exhibit
Every desire, wish, opinion, moment of curiosity, fleeting feeling….available on her surface.
As self aware as she (thought at least she) was, she was never quite certain how often she was read, or by whom. Certainly she picked up her own unspoken language on everyone else. She could read them as well as they might be able to her. Even this sometimes was unexpectedly crippling. Why so sensitive.
What is inside, she pondered, yearning to digest every invisible detail of the soul.
Eyes shifting down, one thumb softly circling the arch of the other wrist, getting lost in every wrinkle, fold, and freckle.
POV: Heart Center
Surrounded by warmth
Electricity pulsing
Her steady heart beats
Signals up from the gut: gooey, glitter lava lamp
Signals down from the mind: curious, brilliant galaxy
Inputs never ending:
Forceful, blunt, overwhelming, lovely, scary, loud, gentle, familiar, memorable, surprising
None too much to interrupt.
Thump thump
Thump thump
This rhythm consistent, persistent, home.
She tests her heart all too often, both deliberately and not.
Steadfast.
Thump thump
Thump thump
This heart, deceptively powerful.
Can beat in sync with love
Can rush to help her run
Can protect her when nothing else is certain.
What a gift living inside, dancing with her soul, dressed in God’s armor, spilling out from her center, present whether she is or not.
Thump thump a little louder then.
To bring her back. To remind her…”Here sweet girl, always here for you”
Trust then is whats left. Faith. Belief.
Poised on the corner of the mountain. Heart seemingly stranded opposite the canyon.
She must leap, she must jump, she must
Surrender
She considers letting her guard down.
Bit by bit
Thump thump
Heart. Here. Home.
Depleted
Wanting to write but the words don't come out.
Craving creativity but the crayon caves into dust.
Reaching, grasping, longing, for security, sense of hope, light, giddy, feminine, elated feeling that has sense melted into mere memory.
Will it ever come back? Of course.
But when.
The impatience feels impossible.
Watches movies, cries to sad songs.
Theres no reason even to be sad.
Embarrassment.
She's too much, then she's not enough. Never enough.
Fine. Sleep.
Try again.
Dusts herself off. Picks herself up.
Step by step.
“Forward is a pace”
Cuddle the pup. Play happy harmonies.
Find the smile. Even if its a practice smile…the real one will find its way home eventually.
The clouds roll in. Vibrating waves of white across the sky.
“You’re ok.” She hears in her mother’s voice to herself.
“You’re going to be ok.”
Winding Road
The winding road, where does it go?
Through fog, lights glow, how could she know?
Dying to figure out where this path leads
Still choosing ‘happy’ even when her heart bleeds
Smiling her best, overflowing with love
If only she could soar to see high above
To take a peek at what this curving path sees
While moving in patience, admiring the trees
Steadfast, determined, persisting for better or worse
Growing in grace, stronger still despite the course
The winding road, where does it go?
If she knew the destination, would she still have that glow?
That radiant light she cant help but spill over
Taking in pain and loss, of course she’ll recover
So step by step with hope in her heart
Even if she is scared at the start
This, her internal world craving adventure big and small
Knowing a leap might lead to a fall
But she loves to fly, craves the wind’s fingers combing through her locks
So on the goes, embracing what knocks
Down the winding road with optimistic fingers crossed
Regardless of the outcome, her heart is never lost
Ignited
And then the rain came, her heart too falling just like each drop ever more in love all over.
The heat, the rush, the gravitational suction back in, back home.
Hand in hand they sprint out from the waves. He picks her up, spins her around, then with passion and pursuit pulls her in. Wrapping his arms around her, and holding on tight - one can see the physical manifestation of their chemistry. The energy that is constant. All the while, the sky weeps. With joy, with relief, healing waters come in a downpour.
Lost in each other, they tumble back home. He engulfs his love in a blanket to calm the shivering shoulders, always looking out for her, then starts to build what would turn into a glowing dance to crackle into the night.
The resting sun below the horizon now but enough light remains to cast whispering shadows of trees in this fairytale forest. Finally thawed out, she slouches curled up in the softest sweater ever produced and just watches - a fire in her eyes before one is ever lit. His strong hands, piece by piece stacking expired tree remnants, practically an art form. Next, the kindling is meticulously managed for a long lasting burn. In a flash the stack is ignited, flames shooting up, and in, and out, burning loud inside their souls at the same time too, impossible to extinguish.
All at Once
The lonely night is over. She can't have both cloudy days and clear nights. If she wants to see the stars, count the planets, get lost in the galaxy, then suffering through that harsh winter sun is part of the equation too. And tonight, that's ok.
Oh how they wave back at her devotion with a twinkle or a shoot across the sky. If stars can dance, then so can she.
Waking up to the crispy cold frost that awaits, slowly drifting out of her dream state, she rolls over. Having migrated to his side of the bed, she finds warmth. Left to her own devices, 5’5” can conquer an entire king sized bed. She is mighty after all. Dilation begins to shrink as the spotty rays sneak in through the meticulously selected grey linen curtains that cascade down either side of the window. The two mysterious emerald universes on either side of her nose squint (waking up the wrinkles too) and then arrives the most satisfying big full body stretch with the faintest squeak at the end. She signals to the morning she’s joined. It is a good morning. This is a really good morning.
Floating to the kitchen, coffee is already dripping. Deliciousness fills the air, a mix of mocha, christmas ferns, and joy. She peeks out the window. He is already up minding the garden in a melody of meditation. How she admires the pristine rows, the care given to even the corners never observed. Mastering his craft, he looks up. Feeling those adoring eyes observing, how could he not meet them.
There’s no place to be. Just in this cozy moment, locked in, Knowing this is then, now, and forever all at once.
What is Knowing
To her it is the unexplainable calm that peers out under the pile of anxiety and depression and destruction that habitually looms on the surface. The calm is stronger than all the rest but silent still. It doesn’t need to be loud. That calm is ever present for her to find, for her to reach, but she only can when she gets out of her own way.
Letting the tears stream, the questions come - crying “why”, the uncontrollable sobs...letting it all out until she cannot possibly make another sound. Then silence. Then the calm. At her weakest, most raw, surrendered state, it takes over. She can think with clarity. Optimism opens the door to her heart. Hope happens to stroll through. Love lights the lamp inside. That is the knowing. The glow that returns, shining from the inside. Regardless of actual circumstance, she finds the spirit within, the strength to smile.
There is more depth to that smile now perhaps. Depth in knowing all that went into it, depth in knowing what comes out of it. Wrinkles from nose crinkles and a big teeth smile but, most critically, the twinkle in those olive disks when the light is just right.
She has learned her smile is her super power, her energy exchange, how she heals (herself and others). So she does. Wiping the tears away, making room for the calm. She smiles. Thats how she goes on.
Goes on to do big things, to excel at whatever she puts her mind to. Goes on to plan more adventures, imagined and actual. Goes on with a new softness. That old hardened heart from childhood is no longer of use. Shell cracked and melted away, she can be soft now. And without fear, even though sometimes she still is afraid.
Discipline does not lack empathy, the two can coexist in the knowing.
Overextending still requires rest. The knowing shows her what that looks like more clearly.
Most of all she’s found that love and devastation are not at odds, rather close neighbors. (Each takes turns winning ‘best lawn of the month’.) Each unmistakably beautiful in their own depth. Each contributes in some way to that smile, that inner light shining through.
So she goes on, the dreamer that she is, to play “best case scenario” every day. And even when she’s caught off guard, when the stars dont align, when waves of inner destruction crash down again, she still finds a way to love through it all. To return to the calm, the knowing that is always with her deep down, and smile.
Blue Sky Days
How she hates blue sky days. The sun so bright she might as well be a bug under a microscope inspected bit by bit. Sometimes it's too much to bear. Especially now. No clouds above to keep her company. To say “you’re not alone”, to say “it's ok”, to say whatever else she’s made up for the sky to tell her and bring her comfort and confidence.
But nothing. There’s no recovery - not on a blue sky day at least. Only waiting. Waiting for weather, for a perfect storm, for some reassurance, for some something.
What to do in the meantime, how to manage… The only thing she can do is her best. To put blinders on. To be honorable and true especially when its hard, especially when it hurts. She loves anyway, that is one thing she can control. To love and to expire any expectations of love in return. Or even to discover that love in return looks completely different than what she thought it might. She tries to escape less. She tries to “be here now” more. But what is her reward, a naked sky, a blinding sun, a night that will never come.
So she follows her own advice: prayer, gratitude, affirmations, sweat, faking it until she makes it. Even a forced smile brings some relief. Seeing the best in what is around her, hoping and praying that only the best is seen in her too, as she cannot bear to disappoint. And then, moment by moment, slowly but surely, it all lifts. Not today, maybe not tomorrow either but it does lift. Because it always does. Evidence that she is in fact not alone. That loneliness is only temporary even though, in the moment, it feels eternal.
There will come a day when there are only ever exquisite sunrises dusted with clouds and colors. When the sky above is moody and full of character and curiosity. When the sunsets are only ever inspiring and never sullen or bleak. Maybe it's the distance between these moments and then that will make the ‘then’ even more overwhelmingly wonderful than she can imagine. God works in mysterious ways. It's none of her business how it all turns out but it is her business to trust and to have faith and to live in joyful obedience, learning how to do that better all the while.
One Day
A cozy mountain mansion.
Where community gathers and isolation isn't lonely. Where there are cool evenings and frequent drizzles and immaculate sun sets and the perfect amount of natural light, intimate and not too bright.
A vibey library and an airy open living space. Trees all around but mountain views too. And of course “a big old porch that wraps around the entire house.”
Does such a place exist? Can it with the imagined peace and vibrance and comfort she creates in her mind?
There is promise.
On a Friday, souls move and dance and laugh and dine all together. Memories soak into the walls.
On a Saturday, its tea for two watching the sun rise, set, and manifesting a future in between.
On a Sunday, it's silent. The music is the whistling wind and the whisper of puppy snores.
There is never dust or clutter but a well lived in home all the same.
Even if only an idea today, anything is possible. It always works out.
Where to Next
They played this little game best of three gin rummy. The Loser spun the globe, the winner blindly placed a pin.
And that’s how they decided. Not just the adventure next but they took a similar approach on so many other decisions. Big and small. Together, playful, low stakes, and always with tenderness. It was their very nature. Not independently but the nature of the pair as a unit.
She was fiery and risk taking and creative and everything all at once with no concern for consequences because luck was always on her side.
He was her calm, steady pursuit, brilliant, and strong, strategic but with the most comforting voice of guidance and assurance. And she followed his lead without question because he made her feel safe and whole and home.
The mix was one for the ages. Together unstoppable but alone, each their own kind of chaos.
They needed each other, that’s the only way the remarkable machine worked.
Of course there were moments, and seasons even, of confusion and misunderstanding but in the end they always found resolve. For their love was eternal. More than that, the passion and intense need for one another only increased over time.
Tunnel visioned on each other the world could crumble all around, and sometimes it did, but they remained at peace deep down.
This time the pin pricked Patagonia
To climb, to camp, to cuddle under the stars. In wonder at the wilderness.
So, nestled in their cozy cabin where the rain sang their favorite songs, the next adventure began.
St. Moritz
And in that moment she remembered how good it felt to be kissed by the sun. That piercing July sky radiating off of her cheeks…. Looking out over the snow capped mountains, happy humans gliding left and right down the slopes. Whispers in French, laughing in Italian, beer clinks accompanied by a deep hearty “Prost!” in unison.
In this winter wonderland they’re curled up in the corner of a cafe, taking in all the joy around. Both exhausted after a morning attempting to ski like the pro’s. She for the second time, him for the first. Her, finding confidence again after the accident so long ago. He switching from a snowboard, just for fun in St. Moritz. An adventure together falling, finding, learning, laughing…together.
While the offerings are endless in this magical getaway, this time is focused. Focused on each other, on coming together after a grueling season. Worries, and to-do’s, and ‘what if’s’ melt away. Work can't reach them here.
Mornings are spent between ice cold powder down the pants from frequent stumbles and finally finding a rhythm. The thrill returns. The adrenalin pumping. Frosty air in the face, a feeling of freedom. She’ll make it down in one piece this time, more than that he is cheering her on. Both racing, basking in the views, is this place even real?
These mornings melt into cozy midday recovery, reconnection, romance….then getting ready for what's next. Does there have to be a next? They can experience whatever their heart desires…and they do.
No words exchanged, moving as one, in sync as if this place, this time, these moments were perfectly choreographed just for them.
Tomorrow is the Snow Polo World Cup. What?? Rather, why not?!
As the afternoon expires, a slow carriage ride awaits. Down the red velvet stairs, she floats in a silk floor length backless canary yellow gown. He is waiting there for her with an exquisite, and unnecessary but completely wonderful all the same, fur coat. His watch peeking out from under the crisp cuff of the flawlessly tailored navy threads, he glances for the time. Mostly late but not tonight. She teases by arriving just as the chimes hit seven just for him. For that grin, the look that says it all.
He wraps her up, finishing with a tight squeeze and a kiss on the temple. They’re off to dine under the stars. The waiters skate each course to the table one by one, wine glasses never empty, smiles never fading. Feeling completely out of place they lock eyes and stifle a giggle. Taking it all in as if they naturally belong, and tonight they do.
Delighted and dancing and filled with dessert, they drift back through their door. Dress dropped to the floor, the dream continues.
Refine
If her heart was extracted. Sliced open chest. Carve out her soul and dissect. What would it look like? Infinite little pieces somehow magically inspected one by one - to the point at which it would be impossible to reconstruct…
A pile of light
A pile of dark
A pile of glitter
A pile of sorrow
A pile of delight
A pile of poison
A pile of memories
A pile of longing
A pile of regret
A pile of hope
A pile of confusion
A pile of desire
A pile of anxiety
A pile of gratitude
A pile of “one days”
A pile of love…how could she forget
Is her heart really so different from another’s? Probably not. That brings her comfort. Not that she is the same (the secret is that she likes to be different). “Unique” and “quirky” while awkward in her youth, is what makes her shine today. But more so comfort in that she’s not alone.
Still though she questions…is she needed, is she valued, does it even matter?
On a good day (most days are good) the answer is that no, the answers to these questions do not matter.
It's the other days where this pesky idea becomes a little bigger slice in the pie of her brain. Reverse pacman eating all the yellow away, until there is a circle of black.
Prayer, community, silence, giving love, giving thanks…this is the cure.
God is so good, she knows this truth - a foundation, a fact. Why then is it so hard to embrace fully?
He is for her, He loves her, He is so proud of who she is. Most of all, He is merciful and His plans are so much better. It's ok to go dark…there is always light in the “morning”.
The internal wrestle is really just the heart stones, the infinite pieces, grinding against each other. Smoothing out rough edges. Refining over time. What a delightful idea that the struggle is for good.
This is how she comes back out. Clean, shiny, new, pristine.
Looking back at it all, a chuckle. Because all of the big things, the insurmountable events, the catastrophe. Really they turned out to just be bumps now undetectable. Necessary to the erosion process.
The infinite pieces are never reconstructed. That would be a return to sameness. No. Only the best pieces remain. Unfinished business until then, the grind continues. At first from a place of effort and obligation.
But after the cure, the prayer, the community, the silence…all the things…. The tossing and turning is only just a dance.
Heart open to the next storm, the next waltz, to refine ever more.
Mov(ing) Along
And out of nowhere, a slow sad melody plays on low, the tears well up uncontrollably and melt down her sleepy cheeks. It's 0530 in the morning and the sun hasnt even gotten out of bed yet. Driving down the dark familiar path, caffeine beginning to pulse through her veins.
She is not in the dark though, not the time at least. She feels the sorrow, she sits in the yuck, she lets the flood fill her eyelids. In the same way a deep tissue massage hurts so good, this does too. Why is she addicted to the intensity? The good, the bad, the highs, the lows. To feel feels good. She is alive in these moments. Right or wrong, she craves them to a fault. Even this micro storm, when it passes, makes her stronger. Even just a little. Everything is going to be ok, everything is always working out for her.
The short seven minute commute comes to a close. Somehow the volume had turned to level ten too - the whole block could sing along. Turning the corner to the familiar green neon lights, a second home. To lift, to shift, to move through it all. The salty droplets are now those of sweat. No one could even guess they were not moments ago. The heat in her body spreads from her heart to the surface. A semblance still of the fading summer tan, pretty like the sun.
Flushing out the seemingly random (or not yet willing to admit otherwise) sadness. Forcefully forward, nostalgic angsty twenty year old tunes bumping through the earbuds. Two short hours later, she’s lived two years. Today is a new day, and it's going to be a good one.
Before You Go
On the edge and down below,
the water ripples and you glow.
“3, 2, 1….3, 2, 1…3, 2, 1 go”
The rush, the wind, the speed, the spots,
around and around and once more, stop.
Kick, look, move, punch.
The release into water, you had a hunch.
In your soul you knew
before you ever made a move:
“Everything always works out for me”
Flying through the air, that’s where I am free.
The thrill, intoxicating. You keep coming back for more.
Pain of imperfection, when you miss, you’re sore.
For days, sometimes weeks - shoulders, thighs back,
but you return again to feel the water break, the sound of the crack.
Addicted to adrenaline, to overcoming fear,
to jump off the platform, surface instantly near.
Diving head first, sometimes unknown,
pride and confidence and a kickass “yes” confirmation….
You’re in the zone.
Only five chances to prove your worth.
All of the blood, sweat, smacks, and tears to come in first.
Ten meters high, on top of your world,
You do it again, even when your brain is swirled.
Obsessed, dependant, a slave to that pain,
because even a good one - you still feel for days.
You can't get enough, the silence, spins, rips.
And when it's all over, your heart - it's in bits.
The training, the reps, learning everyday
“You will get better,” you tell yourself. You say:
you can do it, you can
(you already have).
You’ve proven yourself again and again.
Always hungry for more - you can always be better.
No perfect 10’s just another day wetter.
Years pass, there is growth, but it’s never enough.
Unbounded love, you will never give up.
Just one more as you swim to the side,
up the stairs, to the edge, 3, 2, 1…glide
And in the arena, mom and dad cheer.
Before you go, knowing you belong here.
In the Silence
When the birds hush, the wind wanes, the crickets quiet, there is silence.
What happens next?
Temptation to let the mind wander, race, rush, ruminate? No. She is stronger now.
In the silence, she is still. Listening for the divine, letting her beautiful mind be still and know.
Comfort floods her being. Stress and worry and weight peel off and melt into the abyss. Light as a feather now.
God’s love is an immense wave, toppling over her head, scooping her out into sea, embracing tighter than a home-coming-hug. “Be here now.” And then the release, gently laying her down on dry ground. Renewed, reinforced, reassured. “Trust me.”
And, bit by bit, she does. Where logic departs, faith arrives. Day by day, and only one at a time. “All will be well my darling, you will see.”
WIthout the silence, the heart opening, surrendering …none of this can come to pass. She cannot will it into existence, and without the silence, He won’t let her see.
The hardest lesson to learn and then blindly, fully, unwaveringly obey.
Only then does love begin.
Salt Dreams
This morning she finds herself curled up tight, tangled in the most exquisite, luxurious blanket that exists. Clutching her ‘Carmel’ tinted coffee tight, watching waves wind in and out, crashing against the rocks. The sound, its muffled. Not too loud, still a rhythmic peaceful volume.
The sun rises through cloud striped sky. Oranges, pinks, violets, spilling out from every edge. Its going to be overcast today - her favorite. The kind where silver still defines the flat fluff overhead - so close she might be able to feel it with just a hop and a reach. Its not too humid and the sea spray reminds her this is all finally real. A cool breeze sends a quick shiver through her limbs. A chill of excitement, expression of joy - one her body cannot physically contain it seems.
He is there beside her in this elongated cushioned rocking chair. Calm and steady gliding back and forth. In his own little world, with her still top of mind. Tucking her toes underneath his thighs and his arm around her knees reminds her of this fervent truth.
Hours go by and more could continue. “Lets go for a walk” she whispers. Slowly making their way towards the salty horizon, continuing on the ocean packed, angel wing sprinkled sand. Their linen pant legs rolled up above the ankles and cozy sweaters, they meander hand in hand. A gentle clasp, her fingers folded into his, twirreling his wedding band as she wonders about the world.
Where would they go next? Suddenly it doesnt matter because, with him, wherever they go - she is home
Warm Fuzzies
Perfectly choreographed flora down the median of a highway bringing sunshine on an otherwise daunting travel day to the cold place
God’s paint brush of autumn down Welles Street
The way sunlight glitters on a lake mirroring the fairy dust that shimmers through her insides with a single glance. One that lasts a moment too long to be meaningless
The undeniable sense she’s not alone in her exact thought or feelings at any point in time
When each other’s hopes and dreams become each other’s too
A quiet sunrise over a hill top. One God made just for her on this day
Clouds above playing and shape shifting and coming together, slow dancing, and delighting in the shade they create
The embrace when she feels the world is too much. Moreover, the holding on with such intensity until she’s ok again
The confidence to “wear the dress” to the office full of engineers in starched button downs
An eruption of giggles from the little one across the aisle during peek-a-boo on the flight home
The harvest flavored rainbow on the ground stretching for miles out the window climbing to 30,000ft, elegantly evermore enhanced by a sweet soft gentle sunset
Revisiting the comfort of her own bed after 4 long days away
Affectionately brushing by each other trying a new recipe in a too-small-kitchen
The white egret who’s made his home in the corner of the pond, always there to greet her on morning walks before taking flight to find second breakfast
The first snowfall that sticks, glistening in the night as a fire inside rages on
Answered prayers & God winks
Where Rest Is
Feet planted concrete in this space, surveying beauty before her. This is her safe place. On the boulder between two mossy mounds. Infant mountains, children to those on the horizon that capture every God scripted sunrise and sunset. Sharp jagged perfection casting flawless shaddows, steadfast in their own knowing and purpose.
Rooted here she stands. Returning to this imagined scene when sleep itself is a longed for dream. When counting to one hundred a hundred times and then again leaves her eyes wide open. Here, where the reverent wind sways the lush long grass. Tall, soft, encompassing in this formulated valley in her mind. No artificial noise, only nature sings here. Whispering comfort from the gale. Never seen, the only evidence of its presence is the movement stirred up all around (and within), rushing over the violet mountains landing gracefully on her skin. A hint of horripilation trickling through her.
Still she stands while, from her chest, butterflies swarm. Too many to ever have hope of quantifying. Unpredictable moments, gushing from her spirit out into this valley. Random but welcome snippets in time. When least expected, these gifts from above, then within, proliferate.
Butterflies, their own history just as transforming. From birth on old red dirt, to retreating inward, dissolving, then emerging. Majestic and light, they take flight. Delight in their predestined, butterflies do not question why their journey is so weird. Rather, they take this blessing and flutter to their heart's content. Internal compass leading the way.
Here on this boulder filled with intermittent half present heartbeats, a calm emerges and slumber steps up to the stage. Flat bubbling clouds slowly fade into the darkness, wind winds down then mirrors the whirl of the fan overhead. That falling feeling finds her.
Falling deep into the just-firm-enough mattress, pillows strategically tucked here and there, one final tense then release, back arching every so slightly as she curls up on her side secured. Resting resolute.