The Magic Of Motherhood

I keep surprising myself with the realization that I created an entire human. Or rather, she grew herself and chose my body as a home. Nature is a bad ass ingenious miracle maker
– The Magic Of Motherhood

• the birth of my daughter
birthed me as a mother •

Every time I look at her and imagine the tiny clump of cells that she started from, to now being all this: fingers, toes, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, skin, hairs. Not to mention her brain, so bright! Let’s not forget her soul, filled with light. Oh and, her heart full of joyful delight. She exists. How ever is this even possible? Originated from mere love. So powerful, she is
…by only just existing.

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Love, kindness and maybe art

I will sleep when I need to
Leave me alone
With your structure and standards
With your routines and rules
System this, regulation that
I will live as my
Body, mind and spirit
Feel adequate so
I live to heal and grow
Feed my soul
Nothing of this world constructed
By mankind other than kindness
Love and maybe art

Are in which I’d want to take part
Or enclose in my heart
Leave me out of your
Over socialized society
With only lonely people
Attached to detachment
Plus vice versa
Pretending, lying, masks on, dying
Always crying
Never showing
Always trying
Never knowing
The only life I’m in
Is of learning and growing
Not surviving ongoing
For flying and soaring
Leave me out of your life
Of grids and boxes
Of lines
I want shapes and colors
Unnaturally
Inexplicable
And unpredictable
Keep the organized
The crime and cruelty
The steps and plans and forms
The maps, the can’ts and won’ts
I will not ever participate to conform
Bury me wherever you need to
My being will burn either way
My scars will guide
Towards a brighter day
For anyone who agrees
I dedicated my release
Freedom is all I’ll ever be
A life of how I am free
All I’ll ever have
Want and need nothing else from me

“My man”

Somebody called you “my man” today… doesn’t seem like much special, but I caught myself in the act. I can’t believe, that after over 3 years of being in an exclusive, passionate, insane, magical and committed relationship, with healthy -and unhealthy- doses of attachment, obsession and infatuation, when someone refers to you, today, as “my man”… I still get the uncontrollable urgent tendency to say: “I don’t have a man”

How is this even possible? When all I clearly, obviously want is to be yours & you mine. But see, that’s the thing… No I don’t know what the thing is, but there’s a thing.

I think I’ve never come to terms, or reconciliation, or agreement even, with myself that this, that you… that this with you is real.
Somehow it always stayed lingering, simmering, marinade-ing on ‘fairy tale’ level. Maybe this clarifies a little of my mechanisms surrounding you and your behavior and disappointments related to you.

I can just so easily write you out the story. At least I think I can, but evidently I really can’t. If it’s surreal, like a dream, then I am lucid enough to control what happens. Except with you, I’m never in control. Not over you, which I shouldn’t even have to want (if you would only behave), not over any situation with or regarding you either, because you’re equally if not slightly more stubborn and prideful than me.
A constant power struggle, and the mindful positivists tell the people of worries (like I am) that if controlling the situation is impossible… it’s OKAY, because at the very least you can control yourself and how you deal or react. NOPE!! not me, not this one, I can’t. Not with you, ohh irony, “my man”.
Maybe that’s exactly what really does make you “my man” and this struggle won’t end until I realize and more importantly, embrace you as you are,
MY MAN.

but what if you
put me to shame?
what if you make
me look like a
fool? what if you
betray & play &
I’ll never know
control
anxiety
who ever has any reason to trust anyone?