This is to the magician whose love has the power to manifest as a physical reality about 6288.64 km away.
So you don’t see your strength. You are crazy.
You think because I have determination and can lash out at people and spirits to stay where their place is, I’m strong. That’s violence and helplessness, unless my mind is very clear and my heart very compassionate.
We have the strength of weeds.
You have the strength of rock, and of water.
But of rock and water that is alive; persistent, regenerative.
And generative. Generative of Life.
You have saved my life countless times
You’ve saved your own life countless times, or had it saved by God (I choose this word because it’s compact, just three letters). When you were crossing the lines to the other shores in the hospital, I knew that if your spirit lives, you’ll live. You do. I sense now, a year later, you’ve had your way. You’re alive even more.
I’d say it’s strength to have your life saved by God, too.
Perhaps that’s something I have, in small doses, learnt from you.
When your emotions, drugged up with the wrong thing, and my blindness (I still think it was in part that) threw you into a downward spiral that wanted you to leave by your own choosing, all I tried made it worse; I saw this and left. Perhaps cowardice, but I think it was courage and knowing you: I left because I knew you are not alone, and I made a pact with those protections and with your strength.
And I feel you, when I’m not there. Like you do.
We have the strength of weeds.
You call it resilience. I have seen people like that; twenty years in hell (making me think I’d have killed myself twenty years ago; making me almost unable to be near them for my hyper-empathy – being flooded and paralysed with too much – blocks my compassion) and reaching out to me in compassion and love, with empathy, support, and calm.
Very slowly, over the years though, I have understood that this is strength.
Being in a position of power is typically unrelated to strength, I’d say. In some cases it overlaps, but that’s doesn’t seem to be the norm. Of course I’d rather it were.
You think you are weak because you fall.
You fall because you carry the world.
I didn’t want to write that; you aren’t one of the people who feel responsible for it all and feel oppressed by that. But in another (perhaps more spiritual) sense, you do.
God talked to you in another language, and you have to answer.
Other people fall from other things. That has nothing to do with you. They can go to supermarkets and converse at parties. They can make friends easily, they know how to protect themselves from the abuse of this place. They can be out in the sun, or travel without having the mind split into pieces so it endangers the body, or eat whatever junk food they like without paying with crippling dysfunction. They have their conveniences and their challenges (I suppose; I don’t know that much about these people.)
Still, you can easily save a life or a soul with the gentleness of your care. You can save someone who otherwise met only walls. You can feel you are part of the stream of life and love it even when you are enclosed in your four walls.
You have more passion in your deep waters and more love for life, perhaps, than those who don’t have to walk through walls daily even need.
And there are people, like me, who will give a lot just to sit by this stream, to receive life from it when it is dried up.
(“Give a lot” is shallow; for some diseases, it’s the only cure that works.)
You have a different shape, and I would like to see you stop fighting this shape. Thinking you are less, based on – nothing.
I know it’s not easy, we are certainly less.
In this and that frame of reference. It can certainly be cruel and violate the mind. But I know that like me (or more than me), you have a connection to the source of being, or the heart of being, and you know that it is still and that you are what you are and you are – good (to be biblical). You are far more than good. It’s just me perhaps, but I have never seen all the brights and darks of the universe woven together in a tighter sparkling vortex of intensity and light.
I have never found waters that were so immersive and peace-ful, that could soothe and restore me from ash.