Everybody is crying

But solace is imminent

My consciousness was away in the aether again last night, out and about, doing god knows what/gods work so many people some I’ve never even met writing to tell me I was in their dreams. What is it I am doing out there in the astral all night? Am I hurting for us all? Am I crying for humanity?

When will I acknowledge this aspect of my being with enough reverence for others to also revere it? I came as a healer. Am I healing?

All my selves are sad and the lights of my heart burn black. I don’t understand I can’t wrap my head around it. To be drifting in grief alone. I have no way of knowing what it all means and why do I still care? Haven’t I spent enough time and energy and emotion on this? Haven’t I cried enough?

I wake, sometimes I force myself to move, and then I shower, and I get changed back into pyjamas. Back into bed. Another edible. Another movie. Hiding from the world.

And then, when you can’t blame anymore it’s just hurt, crunching your bones and twisting your gut. Just the simple and resolute grief of understanding, compassion, forgiveness.

The tenderness that arises from this place is the most heartbreaking thing. When the anger and finger pointing fall away it becomes grace and it is grace that smashes the heart open like nothing else. Smashes down the defences and the walls and the outrage and lays them all to waste, revealing them as paltry defences and wasted energy. The flags in my city of love are torn and shredded in the wind, the gates broken open, empty streets and unlit windows.

And that soft, tender, bloodied, beating heart, sheds its own salty ocean of regret and longing. Revealed, peeled back, raw and exposed. I plunge into the depths of this love in the abyss at the end of the plank, I walked it willingly and now I fall headlong into the muted darkness.

There is no sound, there is no light.

It is a healing place that still hums and hurts with the vibrations of loss, still holds me in surrender. Dim solace laps at the edges but there are still too many tears to cry, each one a lament, a soliloquy of sadness, a hymn to the hurt inside.

So I fall deeper into truth. There is no rage, there is no blame. Those aren’t real and besides, it isn’t true and it doesn’t change a thing. What is courage in the face of loss? Is it honesty? Is it release? Is it falling deeper into the void of surrender and holding forgiveness in your heart?

And who is that forgiveness for? Can it be for those who couldn’t face their pain and do their part? And what of the parts of ourselves that we let be so hurt and neglected. The parts that cried out all along, the parts that learned to be quiet despite knowing that this was so, so wrong. Because all of those selves are crying now, in the abyss, and all they want is a soft place to land.

And all the while I float down, becoming skinless, whittled down to bones. And in that state, the benevolent eye of the universe gazes down upon me, and I am seen, and I can see.