The Transformation (Revision 1)

Dzogchen“Why haven’t you written?” asks the Voice from Within.

I am distracted I say.  I wince each time my skin is touched.  She is not near me, but within me.  I feel her enter me with each inhalation and she does not leave me as the air escapes me.  She is there, in my lungs, burning me.  She is there in my heartbeat, reminding me. She is there in my blood as it spills out of my body onto the white carpet of my dreams.  She speaks to me in tongues and in languages I cannot understand.  My body is rebelling against my mind.  Just look at my eyes.  Just look at my skin.  Just look at who I have become.

“Are you ok?” asks the Holy Soul of Friendship.

I lie as my mouth says I am fine.  I stand strong and firm even as my body just wants to crumble to the ground.  I am clean even as I want to roll around in the mud and become one with the Earth, and then fade away into Her and into that one whose name I cannot seem to say.  I am so full I am starving and so starving that I cannot eat a thing.  I am so tired I cannot sleep and when I do my dreams remind me of what could have been.  Ah those mango trees!  Bless that loving river!  See the joy in the Lion done searching for his Tiger as the cool embrace of a shade tree finally protects them both from the searing sun.  See the butterflies born and dancing in a field of endless flowers where I would pick a few and give them to her.  See it all painted in black.  See it all awash in the broken shards of a shattered window where they once gazed at each other in complete adoration.

Or did we?  I cannot say for sure anymore but I can say that all that exists for me in this present moment is the forest, and the mountains, and the snow around my feet.  I stand alone in the darkness of this place and see my own light shining brightly.  I feel the warmth not from there but from here.  This is no false sense of male bravado I say to myself as the strength builds in my legs, in my core, and in my chest.  This is no bullshit act of desperation I hear my heart say as the blood returns to my manhood and the sight is restored in my soul.  You are NOW motherfucker I finally say out loud to the world around me.  This Wolf is about to howl, and you will hear him.

Yeah, I am fine.  I’m just changing.  I’m just now seeing the full moon rise above my horizon.  I am getting stronger even as I fall to pieces.  I am feeling warmth even as I see the breath paint white the frigid air around me.  As the ice forms on my face and the shivers run up and down my body I feel the fire within me burning fiercely.  I have stumbled and I have fallen and I will pick myself up.  I am not beaten.  I feel those primal urges building within me.  I know that I am still here.

There is no song of pity or of sympathy that I want from you.  I don’t need your understanding.  I don’t need you to cut a pathway for me.  You can walk with me if you’d like, or you can go your own way.  I can carry this cross all on my own, in fact give me two and make them heavy. I can still make you scream in the light of a flickering candle or I can go my own way and leave you to your own devices.  You are free to ignore me all you’d like.  You are free to pretend I don’t exist.  Do whatever you must because I am here, I am strong, and I am fearless.  You know I am there as well, in your thoughts, in your dreams and in the ache that is nothing more than your body reminding you of where I should be.  Pretend if you will, but this wolf’s howl echoes in you as freely as it echoes in the moonlit desolation of my beautiful space.

I’m done being distracted from this life by the voices of fucking insanity.  I want to live damn it, and live I shall.  I shake off the thin crust of ice that has formed on my body, look up at the large, white full moon and begin to sing my song.  I am here motherfucker, come get me if you want.  Come take me if you are woman enough to handle it.  The stillness remains even as it is broken and the world begins to revolve again.  Breathe you bastard, breathe.

Exhale.  Sweet exhale.  It gives me space for that long and sweet inhalation.  You know you are on to something when both the inhalation and the exhalation both taste sweet.  Now, I can smile.  Now I know where I am.  Now I am here, motherfucker.

A growl escapes my lips.  You know that growl, and if you want to hear it you’ll have to tell me so.  That growl reminds me of who I am at my best and what I have to offer.  It echoes in the snowy forest where I am now, all but certain that I want to be basking in the moonlit glow of this moment accepting all that is.  I am at home here.  I am at peace.  Only those who wish to be here are here.  Only those who can hear my growl and love it bend their ears to my lips.  Only those who look into my eyes and see something wonderful can turn their heads this way.  Others turn away lest you go deaf and blind.

Inhale…sweet inhale.  Fill my lungs with the passion my heart beats for.  Let me smell the crimson rose as I walk in the sweet meadow brought to life in the springtime.  Let the butterflies land on me and remind me of where they too have been.  Let me lay in the soft grass and cuddle with the warmth of love as I bathe in the air that has not quite decided if it is yet winter or summer.  Let me walk along that line where both cold and heat are a certain truth, where both snow and grass live together, were both the smells of life fill my nostrils and the crack of deathly ice echoes beneath my feet.  Let me live in the line between Yin and Yang, between light and darkness, so that I may know this life to its fullest.

 

photo by: h.koppdelaney