writing in reflection of the world around me //
𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 + 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭//
The writing of a new [love] story- requires an excavation of the old.
An uncovering of all that has gone unhealed, all this time. I feel their presence, so close to me. As though the thinly veiled layers of past/present/future has taken up residence using my heart, mind and dreams as the battleground to work out the unresolved, the unrequited, the long shoved away...
Oh yea, I see ghosts. But not in the way you may think. I see what lies beneath; the presence and remnants of the soul inhabiting the shell. I feel the stories, their pain and uncertainty. I know their struggle as though it is my own.
In hindsight, it was a dangerous space to be, before I understood what I was: a brief stop on a long and winding journey toward redemption. For I would invite them to come in, sit before my fire and share with me their stories; the troubles and questions lingering on the edges of consciousness; offer companionable silence- much needed and too few and far between-so they may rest easy for a bit. And as we talked, shared space- as they witnessed the truth of me- I sensed the weariness melting away, the armor being removed piece by piece; revealing a clearer version of the truth [the essence of soul already sensed].
𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑜𝑠
𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈?
These deep and decadent scorpionic waters- a curious resting place, a kind of home- no longer running still; current{ly} overflowing with karmic memory {its all coming to the surface now}
Rosalie: a metaphor for; Taking matters into ones own hands, left hanging by a thread; the only path to freedom in a time long past. Spite, fear. Resolve. A morbid choice. {But I doubt they included that in the eulogy};
Memory housed in sympathetic spaces; a mercurial reminder of pain unprocessed; Violence. Violated. Power and Control at the expense of Sovereignty. Nowhere to go. Screaming at the top of lungs and nobody hears. All that lingers is the nothingness; the void of death;
When did this fragment of self Lose all sensation? Which lifetime, which experience was the one that finally sent that shred of humanity into oblivion?
The path to rebirth paved with questions unanswered— ghosts of times past...
Kali: on a rampage, ripping me to shreds, my insides, out; blood and guts and glitter. stopping at nothing to give me my everything. 𝑨 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆.
Learning to trust what I feel and know to be true.
Leaning into the uncomfortable edges; all ways, all places.
Asking for help; Speaking up; Saying no.
Survival: an unconscious motivating force;
Living: a conscious choice
Disassociation: my go to coping.
Every moment longer I stay with the feeling: a victory.
Clearing out old fear, calling back the pieces; it’s time to come home.
-an abstract perspective + full moon musings // [me and my 8th house South Node + 7th house Mercury in Scorpio taking a little ride to the depths on this familiar lunation]
to shine light into the shadows // to untangle the knots in my mind // I write.