February 14, 2014


There was a year that didn’t exist. A year that wasn't as she wasn't either, when she forgot how to be. Herself. Whole. 

On that year that wasn't she would go down by the water and with her back to the Pacific, looking at that vast continent ahead, she would measure all its length with her heart, all the miles, one by one, until it reached another ocean… she knew only after all that land and the immensity of those cold waters of the Atlantic she could find his eyes again. The distance felt too real, too massive… overwhelmingly painful, tearing all her inside apart.

To appease her spirit she decided to drive up north on the Pacific Coast Highway and those hills and cliffs, swept by the pacific waves, made her feel the earthquakes and the landslides, all seemed like small prices to pay for the glories of living in California. There she found a place for her broken heart to be. Without excuses. That truth soothed her pain making everything else seem secondary, less important, less vital. As long as she could see that sun go down and those hills turn to gold she could feel less torn… and forget the distance and how small she was when confronting it.

She got used to her sadness and learned to love it. Alone, in the place that held her soul when she had nothing.

One summer day he came back, calm and gentle, comforting and tender. There was no urgency in his world, no rush, no roller coaster. There wasn't more than what he showed, no surprise. He seemed to have all the love and all the patience in this world… he just existed there in his own space and time, side by side with her, barely making a move and just waiting for her to notice him.

He asked her if she still believed in love and she could smile when telling him she couldn't no more… she had had her share of that self-harming madness, she told him softly. He didn't try to deny her fears nor make her speak the word she couldn't feel. 

She fought the peace he brought as one instinctively wrestles the discomfort of all things unknown.
She wrestled alone as he stood there. Silent. Peaceful. Warm. With no judgment in his eyes nor his voice. Just patiently waiting for her to stop hiding and get back on her own path.
With his whispering voice, as not to frighten her, he lulled her to a quietness she had long lost and guided her back from war… somehow she found her way to those two arms that had been hers before… that had been hers all along.

Unexpectedly she felt something she had forgotten. It was not crazy. Not overwhelming. Not anxious. It was peace… a peace that showered her body, reaching every molecule of her being. She felt home.

He asked her again if she still believed in love. She could just smile then, with no words, as to not scare her heart.

If today was not an endless highway,
If tonight was not a crooked trail,
If tomorrow wasn't such a long time,
Then lonesome would mean nothing to you at all.
Yes, and only if my own true love was waitin',
Yes, and if I could hear her heart a-softly poundin',
Only if she was lyin' by me,
Then I'd lie in my bed once again.

                                                            Bob Dylan

February 06, 2014


"I will always runaway" you once told me, "There's no happiness in staying… I shall find no space, no love, no time as my witness". That lingered on my thoughts as I replayed it over and over in my head. I eventually stopped, for a break, while traveling to forget your absence and I realized I too prefer to live alone, and leave alone, running away from anyone else's curve of time. I guess we end up having something in common as we are aware we don't want to be found.

Now I travel by night... so love can't find me.

Despite my struggles and hiding efforts, life is how it's lost, not how it's found as all our days are counted already, numbered from sure beginning to certain end.
We are all just passing by and moving towards the same finish line…There's no pause for this time we were given, for the perpetual decline of this limited energy borrowed to us as we get to exist on this spinning mass of rock. Knowing this all, acknowledging it with sadness in the departure of someone dear, makes the sacrifice feel too real, grounding, almost freeing but hurtful as it is constantly so close.

Time can't bring but loss, the great finale we can't escape, and in the silence of each second I want to stop avoiding feeling it all to my core… even the deepest pain… even an overwhelming joy… for it won't come back. Ever. Again. The same.

Now I travel by night… and I am always leaving… as we all are.

We are all just slowly leaving.

"I'm gonna float up in the ceiling
I built a levee of the stars
And in my field of tired horses
I built a freeway through this farce

Well if I ever get that slumber
Ill be that mole deep in the ground

                      Tallest Man on Earth