fly

soundtrack: Björk's Miðvikudags, from Medulla


i grapple with glory. i glimpse it on the beam of the sunrise, the green of fresh-dewed moss, the absolute ease of the cat in the doorway, the effortless grace of a hawk. i am a part of nature, not apart from it; it is my birthright, as a fellow child of the sun. yet firing in the infinite folds of this bulbous brain: conspiracy. i got it outright, inherited it by blood or by behaviour ( ? regardless, it stuck). always the teacher's pet, i eagerly gulped up the lesson, "A+++!!" as i reach for my dreams, as i train for my destiny, the voices inside my head (the ones i learned. . reach back--who do they sound like? do they have an accent? a face?) stealthily trickily succinctly chip away at my footing. i'm left clamouring grasping at "dinnerplate edges" that threaten to crumble even as i reach. i long to reunite with my nature. to swim like the glistening fish that i am, to light on the air like the graceful easy animal of my birth. i reach back reach back back back before you understood the words they used to knock you down (at least you understand it was accidental). when you still rollerskated shirt-free, laughed so the whole street heard you, danced without missing the beat (you are the beat--how could you miss it?). saw with fresh open all-seeing eyes. embracing was not the wrong thing, trusting was not your error. loving was never the accident. it was the fear. the fear that kept you from asking the questions, the fear that petrified you instead of mobilized you, kept you from seeking answers to the queries of your heart. discernment, judgment--you owned them but swallowed them away. curiosity was not rewarded; instead your smile, instead=perfect teeth, instead your ability to endure attack: adorable.

now i am on that cliff, ever poised on that cliff, searching urgently--the crystal pure deep welcoming water down below--the ever-crumbling pore-pocketed sandstone at hand. i have the answer. i know the answer. the answer. i know the answer. let go. be free. leap like the glorious bird of your birthright into the sky into the now into the water that waits and its push for your bouyancy. you know you can swim. you know how it feels. you know that the water is so deep you can see to the bottom. you know how beautiful you feel when you see your hair seaweed trail around you like a mermaid like when you were dolphins and rescued the treasure from the depths to the shore. you know. your body knows. your spirit remembers--remembers your infinite freedom remembers the swish of the wind as you fly. go. let go.
i practice this every day. every morning letting go, jumping off, feeling the water embody my wake. every day i practice the freedom. some days it holds. other days not as well. some days (not as many as before) i don't leap but instead fall, and am drown by the voices. but every day i practice. and someday i will fly like the fish that i am and touch noses with the nature that knows me, its child before i learned to forget.