001: my vulnerability is my honesty.
there’s a way our souls communicate. a language that’s arcane to our own naked eye. a love language, a soul language, an energy language. it tugs at you until you begin to move authentically, in rhythm, in tune with who you truly are. it’s a forgotten scripture written on your bones. it’s a song that plays in the elevator of your memory. it’s the graffiti written on the walls of your mind. it’s your deepest honesty, your deepest secrets, your deepest voice that’s closest to your chest.
my voice sits like hot tea in my stomach when i am most in-tune with this language. they marry each other to procreate a truth that doesn’t die in my throat before leaving. it’s heavy and it’s thick. sometimes it releases as a cry .sometimes it spews out like gold bullets from my mouth. sometimes it itches under my tongue because the delicateness of the words spoken have been hidden away behind the force of ego, pride, and fear for so long. during my most vulnerable moments, i shed layers, old skins, that were masking away intricacies of who i am. to others, i am cold. i am distant. i am hard to read. they are met with animosity with each hello because their goodbyes are highly anticipated. to the smaller me inside of me, i am raging to prove myself: that i am soft, i am kind, i am a lover, i nurture wounds, i have rose petals inside my womb if you just stayed long enough after you came.
there is more to me. i am not just all wounds and potential.
i’ve made love once. in a way that i left my body and re-entered it again. i had the vision of a thousand eyes - staring at myself and at my lover, in reflections. in perspectives unknown and unseen. all the women inside of me reached and poured into the present moment. all the wisdom of my past lives crashed onto my mental shores. i was whole. i was free in my own body. i was stripped naked but clothed with the wardrobe of confidence. it was an honesty that i had never drank before. the thickest of wines couldn’t get me to speak the truths i did. in our moments of solitude my body cried with water, my mouth spoke languages buried under graves, my energy orchestrated the rhythm that was instrumental to our harmony.
it was because i stripped away old selves and forgave when it felt like crumbling.
there was never a moment i gave an old name to a new face.
the past stayed in its place like an artifact to be studied, and never used.
pride was burnt and used as a light to write by.
if i tripped on my words, i landed gracefully in the hands of my receiver.
if i burst into flames, it illuminated a new path on my journey.
ego became a conversation piece on the coffee table.
being vulnerable, for me, means:
• admitting my flaws, but accepting them, and loving them.
• letting others know that i am not perfect, but i am (more than) okay with it.
• being gentle with myself when i break myself down in pieces. nurturing my shadows.
• living like no one is watching. dancing like everyone is watching. not getting those confused.
• saying what i mean and mean what i say, even if i am afraid.
• understanding exactly who i am - every crevice, every dark corner - so others may understand themselves.
• being naked in front of people, all the time. (metaphorically)
• swallowing my own tears to know myself better.
• falling in love every day. acting on those feelings.
• falling out of love every day. writing about those feelings.
• being myself.
i have come to know my own vulnerability as my honesty. taking care of myself means taking care of the truth that’s planted deep inside of me. we must nurture our own being to allow it to fully maximize. letting go of conditions and the anticipatory eyes of the council is how i gain control of myself. when i am completely free in my being, when i operate from the space closest to my heart, my vulnerability forges its signature in the sky. being vulnerable, being open with how i feel, with my thoughts, and implementing that into art is how i communicate, be, and act with honesty. it’s my soul’s language. it’s the way i communicate with the world about who i am and why. the “how” is still written somewhere in god’s notebook.