Part of a to-be larger work—entitled, Let Me Be Your Beacon…
By, Ashley Ellen
For my sisters
The only sound is the murmur of the rain on the sidewalk two floors below.
I’ve found myself again.
All I can see is the glow behind black squares. Numbers, letters, hands that look like someone else’s.
Grammar correction off.
Kitten is wrapped around me. Like a ragdoll. The weight of her chin is resting on my arm. Moving up and down as I type, not flinching, like a sack of soft warm dough. Kitten is the only one who really knows me. In the night.
From a dark space a foot away—near head level—my voice said don’t be afraid to be afraid. Be honest with yourself. You’re not perfect. You’re no better than anyone else. Dry-heaving from anxiety, really, not alcohol or any other anything, except fillers and processed indulgent wasteful shit from a ball game; I’m crying my eyes out to find the core of me. And a glow from the darkness lit up my eyes for a moment and I remembered that I believe. I remembered why it is that I love everyone in instants. When it’s just them and me. When they can be their true self. I just want everyone to stop trying to be something else. I want to stop trying. I’m going to be me.
I was crying like those nights in my dorm room. Such thin walls and no one said a thing. Never. And no one came nearer than hello. Or I didn’t let them. And just as I was in the bathroom, crying for humanity, for self-suffering, I asked myself why? Why don’t I care for me either? Why don’t I let anything become real? It’s me that sees it as fake. The world only becomes real around you if you let it. And I want you to. I want you to enjoy the world while you’re here because every instance of fake is wasted time. I want to stop making mistakes so I can move on from this moment and stop spinning my wheels in the air.
Haha. Like in highschool. Well I have to say….the struggle I have is that when I find beauty in the world, or in people, I want to consume it. I can’t stop. I need it all. When I’m so tired that I should fall flat is when I start going. Because I have to. What a precious gift. Thank you. Namaste. Darkness. This is what I crave. Peace. For me. In the instants in the night when I don’t have to give my energy. When I can receive.
Thank you Grandma. For watching over me. For watching over us. I still feel bad for every thing I’ve done wrong in my entire life. So many people. I want to write you all letters telling you why I care. Because I have not yet learned how to connect my spirit with my vocal body. It’s awkward and every time I try it comes out wrong. It’s as if a devil is in my mouth. And it takes over when I’m not there. It runs my autopilot. Why, why, why would I do that to myself? Why, why, why would I let that out in the daylight? Why, why, why have I not stopped?
Shades of gray clouded my ears. Muffled the sky. Clenched my teeth. Never again. Never again.
No. At least not yet. At least not now.
Is an art.
Is a lifestyle.
Is walking what you are.
Is maybe called for soon.
Lets out the muck.
Is what is discovered.
Is what is received.
Is what will wait.
Are what you need to live.
Is creating the world around you in a tree pose. Being Vishnu; Brahma; God. Reaching out and grasping a ball of space. A circle of eternity. But only what you can encompass with your own diameter. No more.
REACH FOR THE BALL. OPEN YOUR ARMS OUT IN FRONT OF YOU. IN THE DARK. ROUND THEM. IMAGINE THERE ARE FOUR OF YOU. WITH SPACE ENOUGH TO REACH AROUND, EIGHT SETS OF FIVE FINGERS INTERLOCKING. REMEMBER, YOU ARE NOT A FACADE. YOU ARE A THREE DIMENSIONAL BEING. THIS IS THE SPACE OF YOU. FILL IT. BUT ONLY WITH WHAT YOU NEED.
AND ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.
Now go and be.