BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

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This time nigh time dreams won’t have me. I was expecting them and perhaps that was my mistake. But something else is keeping me awake and restless. There is a wild being caged inside my chest and as much as I’d like to claim nothing really scares me anymore, the intensity of what seems to be roaring within is greater than I seem able to handle right now. I’m not one to give into fear so easily though. I am the curious typ. A wild woman. Whatever that is. I burn and I ache. But it’s all good. That’s how I shed my skin. That’s how I spread my light. So who’s trying to tame me? Why do I have a string feeling I am being domesticated by myself? In me: a pretty tamer and a beast, all at once and me.

The moon called me out tonight, brought me back out of my sleepless bed. It had so much to say to me and I was afraid to listen. The tamer, that worried little thing, was afraid to listen. The beast on the other hand, gave away a deafening weep. No wonder there was fear. The moon spoke of death and blood. Of birth. Of life untamed. Of the raw. The ugly and it’s dirty beauty. And a part of me has been rejecting it for so long. And still is. Half heartedly though. I’ve been neglecting this fight and it was about time it was brought to surface.

 They say the old ways don’t work on this new rising earth, but what does that really mean? I know what it means but I would like to know how it applies to me. To this. But then again no. That’s what I fear. The tamers voice inside of me is still pleading. “Please let me be! Let me just go on unnoticed as I always have.” I am confused. Who am I to sympathise with here? Such a petty thing it would seem. But it doesn’t feel that way at all. Of how it pains me, cuts me deep. I am not afraid of others. I am afraid of myself. Of the beast inside. I hear the judging demon, terrified of the wilderness of my untamed being. “Be cultured! Civilized. Pretty.” It tells me.

But the poor wild beast can’t possibly be all those things. The wild beast is wild. It is not meant to be all those things it is forced to be. How could I ever take sides? How am I to make a decision that seems so devastating to all parts? I know this can’t go on much longer. I must forgive myself for keeping this battle alive thus far already. I keep pushing the limits. How far can I go without having to choose? Can I keep the beast locked up for just a little while longer? No. It doesn’t seem fair. It hurts too much. But the tamer shivers with fear at the very thought of unlocking it’s cage. But I must set it free.

Dear beast, you are not like them. Pretty and domesticated. You are fury and wild. Perfectly ugly and beautiful all at once. Oh what a crazy thing to be doing. To unleash this beast. But perhaps crazier to keep you on a leash. Force of nature. Star of the wild. You too deserve my love. You have kept me sane. Where will you go now that I set you free?

Dear tamer, I hear your questions and your warnings. You predict the worst. You always have. And I understand I really do. But it doesn’t have to be so. There could be relief. The beast is no longer your burden to worry about. You have been conditioned. Terribly so. You heard them say what had to be done to gain their approval. But we no longer seek their approval. You have my love as well. And that’s all you’ll ever need. I assure you. Your work is done and you’ve done it well. I love no matter what. I really do.

Dear beauty and the beast. I love you. Both.

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DYING

Skärmavbild 2014-05-20 kl. 5.51.15 PMThe truth is, I am going to die. The truth is, we are all going to die. This is what life has taught me, that I will die. With this realization, a part of me is already beginning to die. But it’s okay. That’s how it’s supposed to be. We can go about our whole lives trying to ignore this simple truth but in fact it will not make us any happier, only more deluded. There is great fear in disappearing, in realizing that something will happen to you that will make you cease as you. It’s scary because we can’t understand it, because we refuse to understand it. We hold on tight to everything that can prove our existence but in the end none of that matters. Realizing that is part of dying. Letting go is a sort of reconciliation with death. Death can seem like an end but it is only the end of attachment. Death is detachment from the illusion of the mind and the limitations of the physical body. Death is in one part a separation and in another a fusion. Things only seem to disappear when they unite with something bigger than themselves.