Falling in Love

Another Nepalese Night

Thunder, drawing & poem by Claire Mc Gill

Long time no see here!

Sometimes i live “in flow”, everything is fluid. i laugh and cry and create and destroy, and create again. i embrace everything that is happening. it is easy. it flows.

from the source.

sometimes also, the flow is not there anymore. everything seems stopped, broken, and rotten like a dark dead-end. shall i welcome that too? without making a beautiful story out of it, without waiting for it to go away. really, can i welcome it, the same way? this is harder.

pfff this is harder.

and yesterday came back these beauty-full drawings by my friend Claire, and this memory from the nepalese hill. that night was hectic. every bit of my body was moving. restlessly. without any possible contrôle from me. i was not frightened. it was actually nice. better than that. it was fun. “please play now”.

sometimes though, i had to be canalized. i had to.

Grasshoppers, drawing by Claire Mc Gill

it worked quite well to canalise me. but then i would go back to these hectic moves. so, someone came and took me in his arms. i could not tell wether it was a he or a she. the energy was so perfectly balanced. a body of dark blue void. just… full of stars. it was holding me and i was holding it back. i was “in” a body where i felt happy. what a gift. what a gift!

i was understood. in french we say “comprise”. which means “with-taken”. “under-stood” is quite nice too ha! but i felt mostly “with-taken”

Mothership, drawing Claire McGill

there was some music too. and to some point the body began to sing. i then knew it was a “he”. i was held by a man, i was with-taken into a man’s arms, who was there for me, at that moment. not because he wanted to seduce me, not because he was my lover, or my dad, or the with-taker-in-the-arms expert.

no, he was just “there” and i was just “there”. and our hearts were opened. and i could receive this new type of love. within me. it was not romantic or sexual love at all. it was just… love. and there was nothing to take because everything was already there, opened. and abondant.

and i felt an inner peace. something so soft you want to cry. something that could heal anything.

that night i may have understood the meaning of “receiving”. not take but receive.

Flower, drawing by Claire McGill, poem by Mai Hua

There is6 years / Bouche 0 comment(s)

0 comment(s)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *