fear and attraction become confused as we attach ourselves to another person. egos get stoked and plays are made to pack our wounds and stop the bleeding. vulnerability is masked in lonesome desire, and emboldened in offerings of exclusivity, refuge, a meal, and solid wood furniture. but still, secrets are kept, back-up plans reserved, and different stories told. it becomes a performance of self-preservation; dangerous and lost. we are desperate to be shown that we are ok, to be made to feel good about ourselves. in the exchange, there are parts that are guarded and held, the talismans that only years of shared sleep and mated milestones can illuminate. even beneath, where the voice cracks, we are still not sure what is real.

the questions now are: is this leading me closer or further away?  and am i courageous enough to answer?

as i sat at a chance red light in front of my child’s school today, watching with curiosity as another mother and her child cross the street and enter their day, these are the thoughts that filled me. are we really all looking for the same thing? gripping one another to find it? when the crazy irony is that it was never about you or me in our simplicity and redundant motions? and is it really true that only when we are willing to sit in the middle, burn it up, strip naked, and throw a party to the process, will we ever stand a passionate chance of being free?

from these ashes, will there be transformation, transcendence, and happiness?

or is the real truth that these things come from an altogether different kind of fire?

photo: after the burning of the effigy. jodhpur, india.