I can feel the tug of the cosmos.
Gravity and proximity.
Tides and blood moons.
The water in my body, expands and contracts, like them tides. It often leaves me feeling high and dry or submerged for a season.
I certainly feel swallowed up sometimes.
And then it retreats, just like it came, washing away but also leaving behind little treasures. A few shells. Jetsam and flotsam.
I imagine the sands all smooth-like from the constant back and forth of the water, adding and taking away. I sink my feet deep into the cool wet sand. I let them disappear, feeling consumed by the elements. Eating me alive, watching me slowly incorporate into the rhythm of forever.
These are trying times.
There’s a lot of me, staring out into the sky, and feeling as though I’m dissolving into the air. Sometimes I rise like smoke out of a chimney, able to be seen from far away.
But not usually.
I used to say I wanted to disappear.
When the pain was too much, I wanted to dissolve into the earth and lay barely awake for centuries, until maybe I could figure out what to do next.
I felt a great need to reconnect. To give thanks to the things that were keeping my feet on the earth. Things like gravity and speed and mass. I looked at myself in the grandeur that is eternity, both before and after.
I am tiny.
But like the sands, I shift and move and absorb. I wait for the tides to move over me and wonder at all the things it leaves behind. Those special bits that I can say I was a part of when no one was looking.
A hermit crab changing its shell.
Jellyfish glowing like the moon itself.
God I am thankful for it all. That I get to be a part of it all.
The high and the low, and the messes of men and creation of something new. Like a baby or an idea, that is challenged and allowed to grow into something that is endless.
Because from what I know, the cosmos are endless. As are we.
We are all floating and falling. All the time.
Sometimes it’s too much. Other times, we are bone dry, praying to be made into something bigger than ourselves.
It’s not hard to see though,
when you look up (or down)
All of this star stuff and we aren’t dazzled by it anymore.
I am glad I’m part of something bigger. Something that has seasons and room to change.
I am eternal in this mass of things bigger than I could ever see.
It won’t stop me from letting the tides pull me deeper,
until I am washed away into the Great Mystery.