flowers are a prerequisite for entry. [lesson 007/023.]

here's a paradox to color your day:

letting go has given me more control.

over my body, my mind, my peace, my life.

and i'm not saying this perpetual letting go is losing all of the gold coins of introspection from out of my back pocket. or giving up on the empire you’ve built. this type of letting go is faith-based, rooted in peace, and watered by my knowledge of self.

letting go: breathing in the face of rage. praying instead of cursing god. keeping the feeling of silk between my fingers when i want to point the finger, to remind me of the love once shared between the skin of another human being. tasting a sunset and respecting it enough to not compare it to the stretching of day - keeping a space for gratitude. remembering that home is me and the biggest lie is that god exists outside of my skin.

letting go is taking back your power.

the biggest extension of letting go is understanding that attachment is poison and wears a mask of love. my habits of attachment, rooted in separation anxiety, problems of neglect, and fear of rejection, led to unhealthy patterns in the way i treat myself and therefore, what i attract into my sacred space. because i used to believe that i was not worthy of a whole love, i manifested situations and people who reflected that belief. i married myself to an unhealthy ideal of a partner that did not deserve the woman i wanted to become. so each and every time something went left, i blamed the other and was unable to consciously respond in a way that projected the worth i felt i had but could not materialize with my actions. every day i am working on being the woman that i desire to be so i can attract the type of partner i desire to be with. letting go of, and unlearning, the archetype of the person i had been attracting, is the first step. destruction leaves room for new beginnings at the mouth of creation. i needed to completely let go of who i thought i was and destroy all evidence of a past me that didn’t serve my higher ideals, to be born anew.

letting go is destroying to rebuild.

letting go of an attachment to the idea that sex equates love allowed me to take back control of my body and not feel like i have to offer something to prove something. casual sex doesn’t work for me. i can’t get mad at a man for lingering inside of me when he didn’t want to be there long-term in the first place. spirit ties exist and i’m not equipped to keep the connection with half-lovers. i need everything whole in my space. for so long i thought that, even in my relationships, that sex could mend all. my sexual frustration would permeate the emotional connection i had to men because of my inability to separate the two, on their terms. for me, as a woman, the two aren’t separated, so i needed to let go of my habit of giving myself to men who did not love me. if love isn’t the fabric of the sheets then why am i in this bed with you? women are the stronger of the species but i didn’t need to carry around the spirits of men in my womb to prove my resilience. it was only weighing me down. removing myself from the house i built of immortalizing my past lovers through resentment and guilt helped me to see how ugly it was from the outside. it repelled future suitors. i burnt it down to illuminate the sky with my awakening: i no longer want to be attached to unhealthy, toxic ideas about love. in order to grow in love i needed to outgrow the childish implications of what temporary lust had to offer. love does not equate to sex does not equate to my worth as a woman does not equate to giving it to whom or when i give it. but i needed to burn down those walls with the forged beliefs to make more room.

letting go is being reminded of your gravity.

letting go has grounded me on a god level. i am able to observe and see what i was blind to by the flames of victimization, self-harm, and past trauma. so often i told myself i was not worthy and i believed it. because of my habits of self-harm, i carried that weight into my relationships with others and it toxified the clear air of communication. when i spoke up to people abusing me, they claimed i pulled the victimization card for my own benefit. it took a lot of rootwork to be able to tend to the inner hurt child in me, heal her, and then call out the deceit of the devil when he mimicked her voice. silencing the temptations of triggers has come easier now; i know the difference between my own voice that’s close to my heart and the voice of the inner predator that we all harbor inside. i am no longer a victim because i chose to write victor as a synonym to my own name. letting go of past trauma, not to dismiss or repress it, but to stop welding the iron shackles that chained me to it, was my first step in gaining control over my own life. turning my wounds into wisdom. recognizing my sensitivity has also allowed me to recognize others’. “a woman who heals will always attract a man who needs healing.” i’ve let go of the belief that it is my responsibility to heal a man so that (i show him that)i am worthy of his love. fuck that. before i would speak from a place of hurt rather than stepping outside of myself to get a full vision. my tongue for communication carries petals instead of revealing gold bullets i used to hide.

letting go is turning your wounds into wisdom.

letting go has allowed me to give more. i am a control freak and feel like i need to cut my hands to hold onto my armor, just to make sure the anxiety of loss doesn’t tear down my walls. i am guarded in my wanting to be in control; vulnerability took me a while to understand but it renders that my strength is in my ability to let go and remain open. when i let go, i free my hands (my heart, my soul, my mind) to give. i held onto fear, to pain, to worrying about the future, to death, so much that it did not allow any space for me to pick up pieces of peace, new ideas on love, or anything “new” in my life. my hands were full with dead plants. there was no room for growth. practicing letting go, both in the physical sphere and in the intangible realm, has helped me tremendously with being able to give more. i declutter my room and get rid of old things that don’t serve the higher me and give it to donate as do i declutter my mind and get rid of old ideals, thoughts, memories and recycle them into stories, testimonies, and wisdom. the perpetual act of letting go and practicing non-attachment instilled a joy in giving rather than receiving, because i know the importance of remaining open for more blessings to come - whether it’s your hands or your heart. i want to keep giving so i can finally enjoy the look and the work of my bare hands. wanting control is something i no longer hold onto.

letting go is being naked in your truth.

letting go has allowed me to understand my worth as a person, and others' worth as well. i can love from a distance and allow them to be their own person without my entitled, toxic belief that they "owe something" to me. but, i recognize the difference between entitlement and it being okay to having standards. i went on a date with a guy and he brought me flowers. he was the first man to bring me flowers on our first encounter. you can say that i was flushed with emotion: happy, sad, prideful, grateful. the happiness and the gratitude came from it being the first time a man who was not my significant other did a gesture as such. (says a lot about the men in my past, right?) i was so touched. but pride has a way of sneaking its head in: “girl, you DESERVE these. don’t give credit for a man doing something he needs to be doing.” my sadness came from it being the first time i felt respected, honored, by such a simple gesture; i was also sad at how it was affecting me in such a way. they’re just flowers. (right?) however, this date was the day after i got stood up by a guy i had been dating since march. mind you, during a duration of our time together he was still engaged to the mother of his child. he just got back to the country and stood me up. his “apology” was “my bad i smoked a blunt and woke up to it being 4 am.” text on read. never heard back from him. this was the last straw for me. letting go of those ideas of the type of men i THOUGHT i wanted (rich, successful, fly, etc.) is helping me to attract the type of partners i probably need (not emotionally manipulative, loving, honest, thorough, providing, self-aware, etc.) anyway, i went on the date with the guy despite a friend of mine telling me not to go. at the end of the night he surprised me with flowers he had bought for me before us meeting up. i thanked him as i tried to compose my cool (and act like this was a regular thing for me, but based on the type of men i had been allowing into my space, IT WASN’T.) they were beautiful.

“you’ll really be able to see how beautiful they are once they open up (more).”

letting go has allowed me to create standards for myself. i now know the quality and characteristics of the person i pray to attract. i understand the difference between entitlement and worthiness, love and lust, appreciation and momentary gratification. now, flowers are a prerequisite to entry. bring me something living, alive. bring me something to teach me about the beauty of life. bring me something that represents growth. bring me a reflection of the person you believe i am. bring me flowers as a mirror to remind me of that woman. bring me something that adds to my wholeness. bring me confirmation that my blooming is not in vain, but because every living thing has a purpose. bring me god’s long answers to my prayers in a bouquet or petals to remind me that sometimes the truth is in extensions of ourselves. bring me flowers or let go from the idea of me in your life.   


letting go is giving breath to the unknown. 

letting go has allowed me to open up to parts of myself that i had hidden for so long. as i stretch my mind, my wings expand. reminders that i wrote to myself in ink become tattoos for others to read and indulge. i am uncovering the ways that i feel beautiful and tap into my full power: in speaking my truth, but listening more; in giving to others and expecting less; in owning my sexuality and mastering the art of never explaining myself; in being happy and making kindness a genuine, timeless aesthetic; in not carrying the burdens of feeble opinions. in letting go, i have been able to find space for more room to appreciate the beauty that exists in my life. with detaching myself from past ideals, giving more, and surrendering, i am learning that the perpetual art of letting go is how we enter in new stages, new levels, new rooms of life. here's an paradox that will color your day: flowers are the prerequisite for entry.  


 

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olivia jade.

olivia jade is a writer, a creator, a lover. 

a brand consultant and entrepreneur by day, she is a night flower and a moonchild by night. she provides experiences and words for those in need of milk on their tongues- to taste life like it's sweet again. the creator of drinkingthesun.com. 

moons rise in my darkness. [lesson 006/023.]

every river i've ever lived near was dried up. every lap i've ever sat on was never a man who had a face where i can find my own. the hands of my mother never knew how to tame my hair; she just knew how to brush things under the rug.
and people ask why my darkness takes over the sky.

church on sundays never felt like a union with god. it felt like chess to me, having to fight through all of these pons and figures to have the privilege of capturing the most important piece. (why did i feel like i had to prove myself worthy to be in the presence of a presence?) the ballroom down the hallway from my Jido's service reminded my younger aunt and i of the Disney movie, Anastasia. there's a part in the scene where Anastasia walks into the abandoned ballroom and "sees" ghosts, of her unknown past, dancing in unison. for some reason we wanted there to be ghosts inside the same room as us. we often found more comfort in the idea of apparitions than in the human counterparts we lived with. for me, there was always a presence - a million eyes, a coldness. and i didn't have to fight for its attention. darkness has an inviting cologne, a cologne that leads you to sit on its lap and find your face in His. the angel on shift would land on my shoulder and remind me ghosts weren't real, so i'd wipe the memory with sticky Laffy Taffy hands. in two adjacent rooms, danced two different tribes of spirits: a childlike fellowship with the comfort of imagination and a fellowship that anchored itself into desperation and need, a way of survival. kalie, my aunt, and my laughter continued to echo in the grandiose ballroom. Jido was too busy with his god to hear us.

i think everyone has their own hues of darkness, the reasons that bring them to their knees - to pray, to cry, to surrender, to bleed in silence. abandonment, neglect, and rejection have always been the footnote of my darkness. where a flower of desire goes unwatered, there is a wilted child in the womb of the bud. as i got older, those ghosts lingered with me everywhere, and i constantly felt a million eyes, the coldness, the laughter in the ballroom that separated me from god. was i not worthy to be able to feel the same warmth that others felt in life?  what did i do in a past life that separated me from the sun that everyone else seemed to live under?

•••

moonchild became a nickname for me from a friend who seemed to understand my dark nature, my ability to shapeshift into a new person under a blanket of stars, who felt that my truth illuminated against the night sky, in pieces, in fragments, that sometimes fell elusive to the ordinary eye. 

in the long breath of darkness, i came to understand myself. it taught me about depth and about how pain brings us to consciousness. being on the brink of death with your own hands teaches you about the preciousness of life and the heaviness of the human condition. many times i found myself cursing the sky and still received rain. writing suicide notes just made me a better creative writer. the idea of dying made my life around me fuller with people, because you'd be surprised at how many others have the same battle wounds as you. in the absence of my father i filled myself with knowledge; in the absence of my mother i made room for nurturing; in the absence of the love i wanted from my family, i expanded my deep devotion to friendship. darkness is only the absence of visible light, it doesn't, however, mean that it does not exist. moons rise in my darkness and i can give birth to the sun in the morning. 

the ballroom of the sky and the stars as echoes of laughter, dancing and waltzing across the vast darkness, twinkling to remind me of the sensation of aloneness but still being accompanied by a presence.

we are often separated by the ones we love, isolated from their own self-sanctuaries, to cultivate a deeper relationship with our own life. we are not meant to live through someone else. we were given our own skin for a reason. i had to be separated from the sun that everyone lived under to understand my own light. our darkness is unique to us, but light is what keeps us connected to others. one cannot exist without the other. when i swallow this truth, i bask in the milk that lingers: moons rise in my darkness and i can give birth to the sun in the morning. 

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olivia jade.

olivia jade is a writer, a creator, a lover. 

a brand consultant and entrepreneur by day, she is a night flower and a moonchild by night. she provides experiences and words for those in need of milk on their tongues- to taste life like it's sweet again. the creator of drinkingthesun.com.