We Must Be Alivened To Everything We Are

Twenty20

There is something sacred in the air today. I paddled out into the storm of blue, turquoise water with a black sky. She opened up and life fell through. The drops bounced from the ocean as quickly as they came—as if calling up to a lover for one last kiss before they disappeared into the abyss of what is new. I could barily open my eyes the rain fell and fell. Open my hands to the sky. Closed my eyes and opened my mouth. Felt the drops thwack strongly, like the hands of a man that you love holding you fiercely in the small of your back on a day where you are tired and this world feels large.

The water was gold and pink and rolling from everything I was into everything I am and passing into everything I have yet to become. Become, become, Become. We are always becoming—never staying. Water lapsing around my legs and yellow board—taking away everything we are not meant to hold, yet try to and giving away everything we may wish to keep all in the same exhale, inhale, exhale.

I breathe water that is clear—clear of yesteryear and morrow, of the conversations that feel heavy like a pit. I look to either side of me and see wings, beings that I love. His grey hair stuck to his forehead—it’s been 2 years since he has been in the water. Today he told me that he’s in a rough patch, so I grabbed him and went. We must go, go when we are not well—back to where we became. We most rinse our souls in salt, sweat through our spirits in the company of hemlocks and spruce trees, where the eagles feathers split the air and ravens caw. We must go to that which cleans our minds—our bodies.

We must dance, and move and stretch and run and fall into the knowingness that we are alive. Sometimes we forget this—that we are alive. And we must be alivened to everything we are.

I see him, white board shaped by his paws sticking out from beneath him. Large wooden fin pointing to the skies with its wild eyes. Sea roaring around him, rain droplets falling like every movie I have always wanted to live in.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—this is a new beginning. It is all, always a new beginning. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Janne Robinson

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