challenge · experience · friendship · inspiration · life · love · poetry · self help · society · tips · travel · truth · Uncategorized

meditation over my death

I feel like I am opening up even when I am closed

I feel that my words are falling on deaf ears even when I am silent

I feel every part of me is disintegrating with each passing moment

I feel I am becoming my own nightmares, and dropping my organs off cliffs one by one

Destroying my own body, which is only a shell, only a case for who I really am

Bleeding my own blood, which is only a paint which etches my pain into other surfaces

Constricting my own veins; I am my downfall

I am immortal until I agree to succumb to otherworldly forces

I often do not feel I am the same as other creatures, and lively beings, on this earth

I often wonder what happenstance combination of atoms and matter created so provocative a being

How thoughts rose from lifelessness, and how my revolution will cease the same way it started

How one of these days I will meet you all in the grave, although I never wanted to be in the ground

I wanted to decompose, I wanted to biodegrade, I wanted to fertilize the soil of someone who can continue the dream I once had

I wondered when the instant of my termination would arise, and how I would grapple with its reality

Now I don’t.

I have accepted everything that happens to me as happening precisely the way it should

I am living and dying at precisely the same time

I reek of both desolation and ecstasy

I am embodied by nothing; there is no single word, or symbol, or parameter that could contain the fragments of my soul, strewn about they are inside of me

The place in which I reside can be inhabited by no more than one. With one it already faces the danger of overpopulation

Too much happens here, and none of it is reported

Sometimes I believe I am living the most interesting life to have been lived

Sometimes I stop everything for a moment to bow my head in silence,

Breathing in the essence of exactly who I am.

It’s been twenty-one years and I still can’t put my finger on it.

 

Advertisements
experience · life · Uncategorized

What music means to me: “Sadnecessary” album by Milky Chance

5052946057100_600.jpg

I discovered the band Milky Chance in high school. I was working at Panera Bread at the time, and somehow my indie tendencies led me to discover the German group described as folk, alternative rock, reggae, electronic, and indie. I don’t know what any of those mean. What I do know is that few bands have shaped me as profoundly as Milky Chance has. I bonded with a coworker over our love for them, and envied that she had just seen them live at an intimate venue, just weeks before I stumbled upon them. The fact that this band meant so much to her encouraged me to listen to all of their work, memorize their discography, and find that kernel of meaning she had found. It didn’t prove a difficult task. Milky Chance is comprised of lead vocalist and guitarist Clemens Rehbein, producer and percussionist Philipp Dausch, guitarist Antonio Greger, and drummer Sebastian Schmid- all who come together to produce emotionally rich, aching music that speaks to every inch of my soul. At the time, their only album out was called Sadnecessary, also one of the songs on the album. DJ Phillip Dausch said of the song, “On the one side, you’re sad now, but on the other side, you’re happy, looking forward to turning that sad feeling into a hoping mood. And that’s just what it pictures in the music: a sad melody with sad lyrics, but the whole song has a happy and danceable mood.” This song hit me hard. I was struggling with depression and finding silver linings in my life, and somehow the lyrics conveyed to me a sense of triumph. They expressed a deep sadness, but their overall effect was liberating, authentic, and whole. I could own my pain, rather than letting my pain own me. Before I hid myself from sadness, not wanting to amplify its long-lasting existence inside me, but now I drenched myself in it. The sadder the lyrics, the better. I felt happy, like I had something to celebrate. Artists have pain, and they function well enough to put out beautiful art that I am fortunate enough to consume. I am an artist, and I have pain, and I can harness that to create something impactful.

Since then, they have released another album, named Blossom, which is equally as remarkable, but I guess not quite as sacred to me since it was not the premier of them into my life. I had already been enchanted by their music; it was now like family to me, rather than falling in love. How can I dance, cry, and smile obnoxiously all from the same album? There is something magic in their music. Milky Chance’s music transports me to another time, another place, and another life, full of varying possibilities. Whatever their music pulls out of me, it is available for me to access, so long as I push myself to do so. Sometimes I forget about them altogether, and put my Spotify on shuffle, surprised and overjoyed to hear their familiar lyrics come on. It feels like home. If I ever met Milky Chance, I wouldn’t know what to say. I could say something poetic, something pre-written, like “you taught me how to build a home with my words,” or “you helped me realize my sadness is something to harness, and build upon to create something much better,” or “your talents coming together sounds like all the goodness in the world met in one room.” I could say any of those things, but I’m sure they know the effect they’ve had. I think I’d just say “thank you.”

 

My favorite Milky Chance songs:

“Flashed Junk Mind”

“Sadnecessary”

“Loveland”

“Sweet Sun”

“Indigo”

“Fairytale”

“Blossom”

“Doing Good”

“Cocoon”

poetry · Uncategorized

I, too, am human

I surrounded myself with souls who have bodies and found my borders within their territories
Knowing a person is traversing the map of a soul
I poured myself into our conversation, letting you know through eye contact, listening
that I acknowledge your aching existence
And I left my body for a moment
And saw us all, sitting around, bringing energies to each other, begging and pleading for someone to recognize that we were there
And I poured myself into your body to fill you up in all the places you were left alone
And I felt you doing the same
And in that unspoken devotion to a human I had yet to know on a deep level
I felt the depth of your being
Locked eyes, reminded you we are connected and deep down we know that
That you are magical evidence of the living spirit
And I am breathing back to you,
Echoing the sentiment in my own words.
Remembering, I, too, am human
And in this moment we are meant to cross paths
Celebrating that with a farewell
As sensible humans learn to do.

poetry · Uncategorized

repackaged and repurposed

I’m not sure what I look like or who I am or what makes me happy other than making everyone else happy
It hit me
It really hit me
Would I say no to something I know would make you happy?
No,
I wouldn’t.
I’d say yes like I’ve practiced saying yes for the past sixteen years of my life, pushing aside my needs for your own.
Forming my own personality that doesn’t revolve around bending your needs and filling you with energy.
Where’s my energy?
No one has filled me because I’ve been gone too long to fill myself and no one has learned to think of me as their human friend- imperfect- rather than a robot who performs precisely how they want.
Are you sad? I will comfort you.
Are you happy? I will cheer with you.
I don’t understand my emotions without these cues that remind me I’m only of use if I can bend over and give them what they want.
I always give them what they want
Maybe because I’ve felt the sting of disappointment too many times to wish it on anyone else, even the ones who truly don’t deserve the energy I provide them.
What have they done to earn it?
And when they’re done, I’m disposed of, having fulfilled my only purpose in life- being a vehicle for the satisfaction of other humans. My soul is made up of other souls. I’m no original content. I’ve been repackaged and repurposed and I’m ready to get hurt again. I’m ready to sacrifice myself for you.

poetry · Uncategorized

if it’s meant to happen, it happens

What do you think is going to happen that isn’t meant to happen?
Don’t you think if my love for a stranger destroys my love for you there was never anything to destroy?
Don’t you know the nature of first words, and first loves?
And first worlds-
And this bed we make together is our own
And our heads falling together is my home even if I spend my day with someone who isn’t you and doesn’t say the things you say?
Wouldn’t that be okay?
If you just gave me a little space to walk away and tell myself these strangers are not you.
Whether that’s for better or worse,
Whether you’ll love me for better or worse
Whether you’ll wait for me to gather my love for you like frozen flowers beneath the Michigan snow.
It will take me time to realize all that you are offering me with your breath, and your eyes, and your intertwined palm in mine
I will have to collect my thoughts each time we say goodbye until I decide if I’ll ever want to say it for the last time
Because it’s impossible to know-
Isn’t it?
And if you know, I’m sorry
I’m sorry I break you with my every wavering inch
My questioning and inquiring about other souls
Is there a milder crime I could commit than give myself the chance to know who else is out there?
We didn’t sign a contract simply by loving
I haven’t signed myself away to one single love yet so let’s not prematurely end our curiosity and youth and surrender ourselves to the norms of living together and dying together even if we no longer serve each other
Do I serve you as a spotlight to your own glory?
Because you do that for me,
And it is precisely this:
Your investment in how I end up at the end of everything
That makes me hold myself to this commitment
To not assume what’s here is right
Or what’s now is only
To know if we can be happier, we should be
And that’s nothing against your brilliance
It’s everything supporting it
And I wish I had your resilience
Of loving without knowing
I wish we both knew that we would be in good hands- whether our own, or each other’s, or someone new- a budding possibility.
And what’s the probability I won’t sleep if I meet someone who makes me flutter like you make me?
Highly likely-
I’ll be lost,
Where I started
Stuck between only me and myself.

Uncategorized

What music means to me- “Eyes on Fire”

I’m laying on a yoga mat in a warm room with ten other people doing the same. My body is sweaty and tired from the past hour of intense yoga, and I’ve climbed a mountain. I’m finally at the bottom, about to walk off back into daily life. But there’s one last step before I re-assimilate myself into the outside world- savasana, or final relaxation. The instructor directs us to relax our bodies, our facial muscles and limbs which fall easily to the sides. Usually I struggle with rest, but the great contrast of intensity to complete stagnation convinces me I’m worth it. I’m worth these moments, laying here, breathing, and doing absolutely nothing that my body does not need. I’m lulled into a deeply meditative state by the instructor’s words, and hear the strumming of a guitar coming from the speakers, followed by an enchantingly soft voice. I don’t care what she’s saying; I can feel it. My bones blend into my muscles and my mind bows to its only purpose: keeping me alive. The song only lasts a few minutes, but it feels like hours. We’re instructed to make our way back up to the mat, even though I’m not ready. We bid the instructor goodbye with the traditional “namaste,” and that’s it for the practice. But this wasn’t the end of the road for yoga and me. I practiced enough with this older student instructor who I admired, and one day inquired about where and how to become an instructor myself. I got in contact with her boss, and arranged to meet with her soon to discuss. Within a couple weeks, it was decided that I would become a yoga instructor and mentor under the instructor who had shown me the wonderful song “Eyes on Fire.” the mentorship process was transformative, and I and another student took the journey together, after a semester and a Yogafit Level One training ready to teach our own classes. It’s been two years since I first heard this song, but it still takes me back to a time where I regularly laid on a yoga mat as a participant, and not an instructor. I have grown a lot as an instructor these years, but I still have a lot more education to acquire and I’ll be getting my 200 level certification in 2019. If it weren’t for that first yoga instructor, her sweaty but rewarding teaching style, and unique mix of a playlist, I might never have taken a leap to learn the new skill of yoga. “Eyes on Fire” reminds me of a time I knew much less, and reminds me to stay humble, realizing how much farther I can go with my practice. It also reminds me the benefits of continuing to attend other instructors’ classes, to learn from them, better develop my own style, and to give myself the time for my own practice, breathing and meditation the same as we all do, students and teachers alike.