Beneath.

The water called, like the siren myths of sailor lore past. Beckoning me with this overwhelming need to slip beneath the silky surface, to wash away the parts which were no longer serving, those parts that had been breaking the skin already and needed this last bit of effort to fall free.

So I went down to the water.

Fear pricked the back of my neck as I stood staring at the dark, unknown body. Not unlike times I have stared into the mirror, not recognizing who lay beneath the blue waves of my own eyes. Fearful to go past the surface, to ask the questions, to wonder out loud, to declare. Because the things I wanted to say didn’t sit well with my upbringing and that’s what happens “when you let girls go off to the city”, the ones who go before us are portrayed as weak and suggest-able and, “come back with all these ideas in their heads”.

I love the ideas in my head. I love the friends and encounters who have put them there and am grateful for the bad experiences who have too. When I say “no”, it carries weight and when I say “yes”, it paves the way. When I make a decision based on the right things instead of what people will think, that’s my being “high and mighty”, but maybe I don’t want to be shackled to the minute ideas in other people’s heads.

So. I slipped beneath. It terrifies me, that outward action of an inner war, fought valiantly maybe not even well, never far from peripheral. Letting the surface close over your face like a funeral shroud. There was a time when I was scared of never letting myself break the surface and see the light again. The reason I am always chasing. Chasing the light so I don’t commit the mistake of thinking I don’t deserve it.

I thought of all the monsters swimming around me in the lake. The slippery serpents that darted between my ankles and poked at my calves. The ones that lay in wait underneath the boulders that darted the path and the toothy grinned demons that wanted me to swim, further into the deep so they could take me to the bottom in one fell swoop.

I slipped beneath the surface.

The seaweed slid around my ankles, reminding me of the chains I’m breaking free from. The darting kisses from sunnies around my legs tickled and made me laugh. The boulders tripped us and I couldn’t blame the fake monsters for sticking out their legs in jest. And the thing saying not to swim further is the lie in my head that’s scared of expansion and change and vulnerability, because what if it doesn’t work. But what if it does and instead of a tiny lake holding me hostage I’ve found that I can swim in the middle of the entire ocean.

Photography: Ashtin Paige

Fire Starter

A taste of spring came yesterday, unexpectedly, in the middle of December when usually the days are short and nights are cold. A Sunday morning spent baking Christmas cookies seemed like we forcing a lie upon ourselves and conjuring feelings and cheer. Over 60 degrees, sun shining, friends walking through neighborhoods and paying house calls, it was a pretty perfect day.

After doing some work in the afternoon and not getting to really play outside all I wanted to do was sit in the fresh air. Told my roommate to not plan dinner, grabbed firewood and pizza from the store and headed home. The night was settling into the perfect evening, a caress of a breeze, a coolness preceding that with a clear sky.  

For all of my best intentions and fire starting capabilities, that wood was just a mite damp and my efforts for an organic start were futile and I had to trudge back to the house for the back up fire starter. Much to my chagrin that also took about three tries to actually get that wood to burn and then it was good to go. My roommate commented as we were bringing dinner outside “Wow, that fire is really going!” To which I replied, “I used the fire starter, it had no choice!’  

It was  a perfect night filled with deep conversation, connecting, laughing and overall enjoying the company of a friend who knows you so well. The stars were so beautiful and clear that we got out our star gazing apps and were looking up constellations and letting the awe wash over us as the realization of how small we really are set in during those moments you can only ever fully stop to realize.  

As the fire was dying down Becky had made another comment about how well the fire did after the starter was used. Thinking about it for a second though I replied back, “the fire had started before, it alive and going, it was hot, but it needed some encouragement, it needed the fire starter even though it was technically hot enough if the wood wasn’t damp.” Then I grabbed the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes and muttered out “hold on, there’s an analogy in there, hold please”.

How many times can we feel like the fire before the starter? We’re alive, doing our thing, going along, but we’ve lost the spark that kept us ignited. The flames are slowly fading and maybe every once in awhile you get a whiff of oxygen to keep going but it isn’t enough to sustain. Maybe a slew of bad things keep happening and we feel like it’s going to completely go out, our embers are dying one at a time. But then a fire starter comes in, a friend who so completely believes in you, what you are doing, speaks to you heart and soul and reignites that flame.

I feel like I am, but I always want to be a fire starter. I am surrounded by amazing humans who are and I’m not sure if that’s luck or if we’re all drawn to the flames but I am so grateful. But then it’s taking what you’ve been given, the encouragement and empowering and belief and pouring that into someone else who needs it. Because if we are all pouring into someone else just think of the light that shines from that, how tall is that fire. Think of how mesmerizing a bonfire is, people can’t help but stare into the flames and get lost in the wonder, the power, the sheer breathtaking nature of the light. Then think of those people who are the same, their light and energy invokes awe and think of them taking their energy and giving a portion of that to someone who needs it. Because when that happens, they literally don’t have a choice, their fire can’t help but become ignited even in the smallest amount. Then someone else will do the same until your fire is fully stoked and you can, in turn, empower someone else. So, whose fire are you going to help re-ignite this week?