Lost and Found

All my limbs can become trees:

It’s like being lost and becoming found,

all in one brief moment of stillness.

Having the world at your weathered fingertips

but clenching your fist instead

in the hopes of holding onto a feeling.

It’s when I breathe deep, and you

You are at the end of my breath.

Returning it to me, filling me up.

Extracting any air of emptiness

Consuming a void I didn’t know I’d had

Taking a trip to a place that only exists in an alternate universe,

where I am floating through time with no relativity

And you return to me, your breath.

Inflating my lungs

It’s a century, if just for a second

A world of questions answered in a mystery unsolved.

It’s a kiss

Strong enough to lose yourself in,

safe enough still

to have become found.

Advertisements

Are We Finding Or Creating Ourselves?

Let me start by saying I owe this question to my best friend, Cara. We are two, wildly independent young women, we do everything together, we have goals, ambitions, and we love men. But we don’t like them to get in our way.

While Cara and I are uniquely similar, more similar than anyone in the world I have met, we are not best friends because of our similarities. We are best friends thanks to our differences. I never quite knew what made us different, we were always on the same wavelength but at times, not in sync. Maybe she discovered something later than I did, maybe I discovered something in a different way than she did. But we still understood. So until the other night I really never understood what it was that made us so impeccably unalike.

Then there it was, in here room, staring at me. Bold letters in white writing on a black background. “Life is not about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself.”

I knew then, the exact reason why we are different. In each move I make, in every mistake, in every accomplishment, I believe at the core of me that this happened in order for me to learn. It happened because I needed it to, because I needed to know more about myself, I needed to find myself in a different situation, in a different atmosphere. I needed to know what I would be like, anywhere, and I needed to know what place and mindset was best suited for me. I accept things because I deem them as necessary.

Creating yourself not he other hand is very different, I can’t speak for her, but when I think of creating myself I think of making things happen. In each move she makes, there is a motive, in every mistake, she feels as though it comes straight back to something that she did, along with every accomplishment. So there is guilt, but there is also pride. Maybe her belief, at her core, is not that “this happened because she needed it to” but “I owe all of this to myself and what I have created.” On the one hand, its amazing. I’m envious. I wish I took credit for all of my accomplishments, I wish I could tell myself “good job.” On the downside, what about the mistakes? What about, blaming yourself for something out of your control? On the other hand, is that more self-awareness? Is she more conscious of the things she has done incorrectly, whereas I may be pawning them off as something out of my control?

I was thinking about it a lot tonight, and I don’t quite think it matters. Maybe it takes finding yourself, in order to create the self that you should be in the end. And maybe it takes creating the wrong self a few times, before you find your “true” self. I think there are a lot of things about this belief, that make us intrinsically different. However, I also believe that the true and admirable friendship we share is born on the fact that no matter what she believes, or I believe, each of us can see things with an open-mind. After all, it could be one way or it could be the other. But I think that whether you find, or create yourself, where you truly find who you are is in the compromise you make for the people you love. The empathy you have for those around you, no matter how they differ. We may not always see eye to eye, we may not always see the same picture, but we are still willing to understand the other ones perspective.

What a wonderful world it would be if more of us could do that. So what do you think, are we searching through the world looking for who we may be? Or are we making ourselves and our beliefs as we go? You tell me.

xoxo,

Shel.

Global Views

In spite of everything,
I have never known someone who loved life as much as I do.
It may not be well known,
it may not be made known by the words I write.
Because within them,
what you see is that life is full of unknowns,
and full of hurt.
What is not shown,
is the depth of love I have for moments that do not yet exist.
Those imagined moments are what keep me fighting.
The innate and insatiable love I have for this world,
is what keeps me in it.
Although I fight the urge to give in daily,
what I want to be known is why I do not give up.
I do not give up because despite of all the ugliness that consumes daily rituals,
there are moments that have not been made yet,
there are things in the future for me that must happen.
These are the things I love so much, the great unknown.
The humor and the quantity of things that I have not seen.
There are so many things I wish that I could forget,
things that have already been.
But I breathe in because of all the things that haven’t yet.
I want the world, I have since I was young.
I want the world, all of it.
Sometimes I want it in my hands,
and that is where my faults lie.
But the urge to have the world, to view it,
to be in it and to know it,
kicks me into gear and builds me up.
The only thing that gets me through the day,
is knowing that there are things that have not yet been found.
I guess thats why life can get so desolate.
When you consistently live for things that aren’t,
you forget to appreciate what is around you.
There lies my faults.
Not being able to see what is around me,
only being able to see what is in front.
And when the footsteps you are supposed to take are muddled,
how do you know which direction to move?
Despite what goes on in this mind of mine,
all of the darkness and solitude…
There has never been hate.
Actually it is what separates me I believe…
because in my laments there is a silver lining.
There always has been.
Whether it is in the form of dry humor,
or just a saturated attempt at a joke,
or a bright side.
I love this world, I live for this world.

Girls In Dresses

We dance in circles around ourselves,
Perpetually taking serious matters lightly
as we take ourselves too seriously
We wander, and take risks
But always come back to what’s familiar.
Our voices echo, in rooms with hidden secrets
and our soft skin is betrayed by us
with sunshine and cigarettes, alcohol and eyeliner.
Our singing is loud, louder still when we are alone
Sweet tears fall in place on our cheeks,
more than they should
because we care, more than we should –
Despite what we want you to think.
We will spin around you in a rushed and floral fragranced motion
Subliminally begging you to love us,
all while expressing our need for independence
Because we are so wildly uncomplicated,
and so beautifully untouched,
In our opinions – which forever stay naive
Only become pushed further from the surface.
We are charming and demanding,
playing within our boundaries until we lay our heads down at night
Silently venturing to places you could never know.
Because we are sweet, so sweet
As sugar, as cherries, as pearls
Yet there is a mystery we’ve solved in spite of it all,
The mystery of the world.

An Affliction for The Atlantic

the great big blue,
when everything else has changed and come full circle
there you are,
still the same after all these years
my reliable atlantic, my anchor
the streets around you have holes in the ground
the store fronts come and go
but there you are big blue,
to bring me back.
back to where it all started.
the immensity of it is calming
the vastness that continues to call to me
where the love held me
i played and laughed and cried in you
i fell under your power and gave way to the waves
in you i let myself lose control,
and i found it all again
my ground, my footing
even when it sunk slightly and sprinkled my ankles
this is where it all began
where i came when i had nowhere to go,
and i sat when the world wouldn’t stay the same
my calves flexed, my arms flew towards the sky
and i fell in love all over again
with the great big blue
that smile came back to me here,
created a sparkle in my still brown eyes
and it stayed there, the reflection of the atlantic
it is always there, in my eyes
light bounced along the ripples of your break,
and i knew that nowhere i went,
could take away the glimmer of the Atlantic in me
i am so small, i am so fragile.
anywhere else in the world it would make me feel powerless
but here it stills me,
gives me strength within my fingertips
holds me to my dreams that i can see were never lost.
they are all here in the ocean,
as will they always be.
they are all here in my reliable atlantic
it is everything to me.

Views From An Airplane

the downside of yearning for the things you have not met in life,
is that you lose sight of the beautiful things you already know.
stuck in a rut, stuck in a mindset, getting out was what I needed.
yet you can only run so far, until yourself catches up to you.
there are only so many corners you can hide in,
before the world that you already knew, meets the world you wanted to create.
few things that are new, are complicated.
from the sky, the city lights don’t tell you stories of the people that walk their streets.
a far off view, can only lend you so many details
details that you stretch to make sense, details that you start to realize
when you are finally, living in them.
wanting a change of scenery so badly that you can actually create it in your mind
pauses the spinning of the surroundings that you live in
if I looked on this place in an airplane, I would see what strangers crave
my vision of home was blurred and silenced,
until I viewed it as something I had never seen before.
when you do, when you look upon something so familiar,
the way it would seem as if it were foreign
you find the intricate details intoxicating.
instead of shutting out the world, and developing one more exhilarating in my mind
I will listen to how the wind stirs, I will see the ocean meet the land
I will make the details that envelope me, new and worthwhile.
we only have one life,
and there is no life in constantly wanting something different.
we only have one home,
and there is no home in something that knows nothing about you,
and that you want to know nothing about.
so i’ll take it.
i’ll take it and run with it.
and make it so I can always see the beauty in something stationary.
so that I can always feel how good it is,
to be home.

The Breathing Game

I wrote this in August, after having experienced solitude and serenity for a few moments in my life. The trouble with solitude and serenity is that when you have those fleeting moments, at least for me, retrospection can intrude your thoughts. And in retrospect, I appreciated the peace much more knowing how turbulent the road was that had guided me there. Hope you like it.

The calm, it slides under me.
Liquid through my fingers,
and that sun
it shines down on me.
and the sea,
it’s okay with me.

Butterflies and bike rides,
florals in the air.
there is an aura about it,
foreign, but it is home.

for now, it is home.

the sea, here I am.
I’m back again
standing still and observing.
Inhaling. Slowly.
as if it were more of a process

as if breathing becomes more complicated,
when it’s slowed down.

and for now the sound,
that breath is home.

For now I am home.

If I close my eyes, and the world is still.
A wave crashes and my toes sink deeper into the sand,
and it is overwhelming – it’s simplicity.
the serenity of this home.

I will live here in this moment,
in this breath.
Because I can stay here,
and I am safe here, to let myself be.
To disassociate from the surface,
and get back into my head.
Now I am home,
when I am learning myself.
But not in my bed, not here.
Not in my bed.

And God why?
I yell out. And I am guilty. I am vain.
But I’m also sane. I’m getting back to sane.
And what a long road it’s been.

What an uncomfortable hike,
what a wonderful experience,
what an intense encounter,
what an insightful situation,

what a fucking mess it has been.