questions – liquid fruitions

dialogue with effort

who am i without effort?
where do i hold on to,
when every step = 0?
who do i become?
when this is only a collection of nows?
where do i attach, 
when there is no horizontal plane?
who am i,
 when i accept this vertical body?
simply transmitting, heaven on earth.
past and future, only existing now. 
effortless existence.
as if nothing happened, as if nothing will happen.
alertness + effort, not to be confused.
within alertness hides a door,
to effortless space.
where life flows,
through spine.
like sunlight,
informing tree.
who stands upright.
weaving with the cosmic honey,
spreading out into all it is meant to be.
i am,
without effort.

imagine : the choice : to belong

imagine,
if it were effortless 
to move
every cell of the body in the place it knows how to be
all working together without effort,
with pleasure
the body as a whole
each part in unique relationship with gravity
all dancing singularly
in the divine complete puzzle whole.
movement isn't effort or doing
it is,
intention traveling in directions
and a perceiving of how this intention
travels and shapes
all parts of the whole
doing and being, together in harmony.

the choice,
to open into infinite possibilities
finding silent home in chaos
who am i without effort?

identity in effort,
a false sense of safety, a false sense of control.
trying to know,
to hide from the experience of knowing what it could mean
to be in this body
a collection of the universe
experiencing human form
in relation to all forces around
a dance between
infinity 
unfolding
catalyzing
balanced between poles
held, but free
belonging.

seeds of my now

the staircase of glow
he doesn't really hear me

i respond with love
he responds with question, the debate
he's not hearing what i am, who i am in total
i tell him i love him despite the changes
he tells me it wasn't a change but a shift
so 
why are you looking at the change
and not the fact i just told you i loved you
you shut me off
what is flowing and reaching out to you
but you say you understand everything already
that you can't repeat what you already know
that it's boring, boring to your all knowing self
but where is the knowing to acknowledge
to fall in
to stop and realize what someone is trying to give
to feel it all
which is probably a lot
its like 2 magnets attracting
of when the same sign, but when they are opposites
they mesh
i am trying to be myself, the opposite
i don't really know what i'm trying
but i feel you taking the love away from me
the love of myself

and this is what i need to find
with space will it return?

august 2018

a snowflake fell then. a rain drop falls now.
how many moments passed? from when i made the decision with the falling of the snowflakes in the corner of the tea house, to when i lay on the bed next to her and the falling rain.
how many moments passed? from when i peed my pants (for real) on the cement sidewalk, to when i pee on the leaves and grass covering the mountains.
how many moments passed? from when i fell asleep in the foggy cafe window, to when i forget to sleep because of bliss given by the touch of a brother.
decisions connecting, decisions guiding. and who am i to know where they lead, who am i to know how the web is woven. who am i.
to know.
who i am.
i am who, and i am how. i am how the currents flow, i am how the stories are told, i am how the cells remember. simply, i am.
in me, the moments passed are comprised. i hold memories of replicated scenarios, on different lands. of replicated learning, in different bodies.
for this, i live.
for this,
i am.

munich, germany // july 2020

a primal preparation

what is it about him?
what is it about me?

“Ich erinnere mich sich selbst.”
A part of me feels like he is everything, the one.
A part of me feels like he will never understand.

So I seek, myself, to find the answer.

I seek
What I fear?
Who I am. What does this mean, I?
How I block and ignore?
How I hide, how I shine?
How I love? Giving and receiving. 

I enter an experiment with others.
An inaugural gathering to my inauguration.
  
I give myself permission, to rest, to retreat by choice.
To see my strength, through the love.
I glow.

sintra, portugal // august 2019

why?

why do we act like each other don’t exist? why is it more comfortable to look at an advertisement? everyone looking into space like we don’t exist.

together, ignoring reality. hiding in their own.

what if we all stopped walking at once, in silence, and then went into dance. everyone dancing together. on the sidewalks, in the parks, in the train, on bikes, on stairs. creating a force that would allow us all to stop. and come together as one.

fall into reality.

and why do kids only have playtime? does it make sense that at a certain age, deemed by the calendar and by time, we lose our sense of play. only work. why can’t we play?

a man plays the violin.

everyone ignores him. i don’t give money. i give a smile. he plays and walks on.

through, out.

and in.

as told by water

They say that water has memory. Its chemical structure remembers, from the beginning of time, until now.

Our story, surrounded and contained by water.

Formless and formed, adjusting and adjusted, absorbing and absorbed.

location: Berlin, Germany

water: Mügelsee

Together in the sun, he is sitting on the bank as I swim to meet him through the grass of the lake. I slowly stand up, sensing each drop of water roll down my naked body, each drop reflecting in the light of his eyes. Hummus, pita, olives, red wine serve as sensory distractions. The bliss floats out of our laughing mouths. We wade through the water, our chests and lower bellies meet. I feel the heat of a deep knowing and exchange. A shy look to the left, a drop of fear joins. The water reflects the sun back into our faces and eyes, encouraging us to trust in the brightness. Do we notice? We choose not to discuss the answer. Diving back into the cool water, the heat of our connection and the heat of our impending separation dissolve. For now, we are one. Me, him, the water.

location: Amsterdam, Netherlands

water: The Amstel

Five months pass with the Pacific calmly flowing between us. I in the West and him in the East. I am consumed by the heat of our separation; I crave to slip into the cold, silvery blanket of the sea with him, to leave this behind; I do this. We meet at the canal, time pauses, the moon shines down on our tight chests. Did we see the brightness reflected back at us five months ago? Do we choose this brightness or do we choose fear, do we choose darkness? Holding hands, we step and step, slowly, deeper and deeper, matching the pace of the flowing water next to us. Holding hands, we look at each other from the peak of our individual mountains, seeing a home in each others eyes but noting the dark abyss between us. The only way to meet is to reach the base of the mountain and tread across the solid ground. Our story begins its descent.

location: Faro, Portugal

water: The Atlantic Ocean

Seven months pass. Halfway down the perceived inner mountains, we stand shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the European continent, looking out over the Atlantic with no land in sight. The red sun stretches over the horizon, becoming wider and wider in a way I have never seen before. It appears to be on the edge of the universe as we know it, someplace in an oasis of time. I desire to go there with him, to hold his hand and step onto the surface of the limitless water, defying gravity as the pull of the sun and timeless space slowly melts us together. His lies and betrayal meet with my potential desires; the former wins.

location: Munich, Germany

water: The Isar

The river rushes around my calves and ankles. My feat grip into the dirt, my hands clutch the stones. He sits on the river bank, stable; I stand in the river, fighting the flow. A storm cloud rolls in, covering us in its darkness and thick drops. The space between us breaks, we becoming two people fighting the same battle. Rain pours into our faces, matts our hair, clothes cling to our bodies. The repetitive motion of the bicycles is the only familiarity. A few times I drive meters with my eyes closed. By this time I have gotten good at moving forward blindly. We pause under a bridge and wrap ourselves in a dry cloth. The smell of my palo santo cleansed home is in the fabric. A sad attempt at protection from our reality.

location: Tel Aviv, Israel

water: The Mediterranean Sea

We sit together by the Mediterranean. I can’t escape the heat. The heat of the sand. The heat of the air. The heat of the water. The heat of my lies in my stomach. I am trapped, and so is he. We are trapped in our own heat, and even the water isn’t cool enough to soothe us. He throws his plastic bottle with enough force to break us into pieces. It happens. The bottle hits the ground. Our individual truths come out with the shattering of our reality. Everything flows. The bottle is thrown away. Recycling isn’t popular in Israel.

location: Berlin, Germany

water: The Spree

I finally find the courage to say goodbye. Water takes its most intimate form, now able to cool us once more, wrapping our hot faces in heavy drips of saltiness. It pours down. It consumes. It transports. A tear rests on his cheek, not eager to flow down. I see it as an invitation to unite our individual waters. My gentle kiss becomes a suck, I take the tear in my mouth and we become one. Molecules meeting, bodies parting.