3AM

SIGNIFICANT SPACES

January Third Twenty Fourteen—

I had a dream I stood beneath those black skies. Halfway between us and my decision, I was stopped where the lights are muted. The 3:30 am sky is always the most silent and reassuring. I looked up in between the trees and apartment buildings to breathe it in. Finally understanding the weight of it all on that first inhale - I exhaled tilting my head towards those celestial bodies. Snow on the ground, and the sky clear, breathed in a knowledge that I am God. And that my future was to find a way to understand that at all times. That every cell of my disproportioned and broken body was divine and organized long before there ever was a before. That belief has taken seven years for me to hold onto and not let go. But this was the moment that I knew it was possible. Walking away from that broken we, would give my subconscious the evidence it needed to prove I was serious this time. I learned on that early morning walk out of your apartment, that experiences of hurt and loss, can be also holy and soft.

For today only, I have finally won the battle with black veils and unfeeling. Time gives you a break to let you breathe. But soon enough that overwhelmed feeling comes swinging back to hit you in the chest and knock the wind out of you. A cycle that I am learning to work with, be grateful for.

This is not a letter to the love lost or never found. This is a letter to understanding & realization.  

Gregory Alan Isakov, babies with freckles who would grow up to dance just like you made me feel. As he looked at me, he told me he saw a mirror. A reflection that hurt and showed who he really was. And all this time I thought that I reflected back the broken parts of himself that he hated. I thought the dark in me pulled him back from everything he was trying to become. But is it possible that instead of reflecting all things bad, I was reflecting the holy in both of us? Did that light hurt his sensitive eyes that had spent years living for the dark?

The abuse disguised as empowerment taught me to not feel, and the next two decades were spent passively living for another’s purpose, feeling what I saw others feel. But on this clear and cold morning I stood between those buildings staring up at that divine filled sky—and I felt something good. That sacred black veil was hesitantly taken off my eyes, showing a glimpse of the compassion my protector holds. She afforded me 2 minutes of feeling all things. I saw The Mother and the Kundalini energy that was making its way up my spine, working out the road it would take to reach my heart. I was awakening to the reason of my existence.

But by the time I got to my car, that familiar veil rested softly again on my shoulders. Confusion & excuses set in once more. 

To become like God, will that dark and light need to find a way to live in harmony inside of us? Will we have to stop believing that light means good, and dark means bad? Or that there is such a thing as “good women” and “evil women”? Is the man who uses his power to make others small, just grappling with his own smallness? 

Light creates hard harsh lines, absolutes, & complete understanding. Dark finds beauty in holy and soft edges. In fluid words, misinterpretation, and symbolism. Is the dark only for this world? Or was it always meant to live in us? To be a functioning, living, breathing creature, not to rid of, but to form with?

After listening to your soft breathing & never hearing you utter the words but knowing it was time, I pushed myself up. Unwrapping myself from a broken home I helped create, crawling carefully over you to stand.

Promises have been kept. Shake hands, say goodnight. We have more commitments to keep & darkness to breathe. I am learning, so I must leave.