could you tell me what you want? you. the one reading this. could you tell me?

so much of what i am hashing through right now is wound tightly with words like entitlement and deserving. i wonder, are you able to ask for what you want? ask and not feel embarassed? ask and not feel ashamed? indebted? ridiculous? greedy? needy? absurd and three years old?

do you preface your wants with “i know i don’t need this” or somehow devalue your desire?

my wanting wound is healing. granulating from the bottom up. but for now it is open. exposed. at risk for infection. needing to be kept clean and irrigated; and packed with clean, soft dressings.

the healer who played me songs (songs she knew i needed to hear and knew that i knew, without knowing, you know?) she asked me to start keeping a desire journal. a place to write down the wanting as it speaks. as i find the strong voice to speak it.

and so i thought, what better place to begin than here?

(present moment) desire list:

~chocolate

~happiness. the levity kind.

~a more comfortable chair at my desk.

~a massage. the no-elbows, but still strong, gentle kind.

~company. the cozy, easy kind.

~tea. the spicy, gingery kind.

~to be in morocco or india, sitting on a comfortable daybed. with a cashmere throw, lantern light, and someone playing the guitar. after the massage. and with the company and tea.

~to feel settled. risen. light.

~sleep. hours and hours of sleep.

~a planned vacation. somewhere warm. with water (the salty kind).

~my body strong and lean to best enjoy such a vacation.

~nothing to do.

~everything to do.

~a white sofa

~to sell everything and to live in a cave like the guy i saw in matala, crete, many years ago.

~a hot tub.

~a really big life where all these random moment wants are just the inkling of possible. a life that holds my bigness and one created and maintained by my connection with who i am. a life fueled by connection, beauty, and grace. a life that shows my children how very vital it is to know what they want. and that they deserve ALL of it. even the chocolate. but mostly the happiness.

(that was fun. i think i will try it again tomorrow. now, really, will you tell me what you want?)

"i've wanted to meet you for so long. and, you." poolside fellini. last night.

i pulled a rotten blue onion out of the wooden bowl just now, while sweet blueberry cardamon muffins are rising in the oven, crisping on top and staying soft and spongy in the middle. there are clean dishes in the dishwasher and as many dirty ones in the sink. my bed is made, but the white laundry lay on the floor waiting for more bleach to be bought. it is summer and i am freezing. i feel a thousand years old and still damp. alone and surrounded. small and cavernous–with echos and unfamiliar verses. i am everything and nothing. overcome and blank. awkward and elegant. opposites waging war and praying for peace.

surrendered, clung, and releasing.

these are the scenes i look at all day long, above my desk, where i process photos and string words. clearly, i love the toast catalog. the work of my friends (even better when gifted). the colors blue, grey, brown, and white. textiles and block print. torn edges. feathers. and the way sun makes even shadows look better. the green door in the middle? takes me right back to the temple in india where i captured it.

my children are asleep. the house is quiet. and as i sip some dry red wine, while listening to kirtan chants and working late on a project, i’m taking inventory of my dreams. trying on and opening to the truth that the feelings evoked by this imagery–the very ones that made me rip them out from other places, put them together and place them where i’d see them each day–belong to me. even more, that i am entitled to the lived experience of what these visions represent: softness, adventure, intrigue, abundance, quiet, solitude, self-knowing, mystery, freedom, comfort, expression, elegance, ease, JOY.

these are the things that my heart longs for.

IT IS OUR BIRTHRIGHT TO HAVE WHAT OUR HEARTS LONG FOR. IT IS OUR PURPOSE. IT IS THE BEST THAT WE CAN GIVE TO THIS LIFE AND TO THE PEOPLE WE LOVE.

turns out i can write this simple little manifesto on a keyboard. i can even post it to an unseen audience of thousands. i can preach it passionately to my children. but i could not speak it aloud to my therapist when i was asked to today. because i don’t quite believe yet that this is true for me. i’ve lived a long time believing that i am the exception.

it is healing time.

quietly. paicho, gulu, uganda. april 2010. CAFWA

sometimes we can make big loud overtures to our pain. belt out songs about our suffering. paint our darkness and write eulogies to our grief.

but, other times, circumstance requires discretion, self-soothing, and silence.

neither is right, i am learning. there is time and space for both. even in the course of a single day.

what i hope, for myself and for you, is that when the time comes to be held, to have that song heard and that ache understood, that we will continue to show up for one another. with or without words, or in whispers of forgotten languages, we will be with one another.

can we promise each other that?