to see truth is to die, too.
to know truth is to die, too.

and all of it, a little death.

“what are you willing to die for?” she asked.

with one hand on my heart, I said, “this.”

it was night time, and we were together.

just me & her. her & me.

we were lovers, but more than that, we were friends.
we would never have been lovers if we hadn’t been friends.

whenever I touched her, I felt her love for me. reciprocally.

I kissed her naked body all over under the moonlight. she writhed beneath me.

then abruptly, she sat up, almost haughty. taut collarbones, tight stomach, sweet breasts.

“what in you needs to die for you to be able to truly live?”

I sat back on my haunches and considered her question. “I don’t know,” I said.

”find out,” she replied. “surrender.”

so, I did.

I like doing what she told me to do.

it felt… right.
it felt… nice.

I liked switching my brain off.
I liked being able to just melt into her arms.

I felt I belonged there.

it anchored me.

there comes a time in every woman’s life when she must discover who she is beyond her conditioned identity.

and on that day, I lost her.

she turned cold to me.

her sweet breasts dried up & shrivelled into raisins.
her sing-song voice dropped an octave or two & became distant.

it was almost as if whenever she talked to me, she was looking away from me.
it was almost as if she couldn’t bear to look at me anymore.

I loved her, I missed her, I wanted her… and yet, I had to face the truth: she didn’t want me.

there was something distinct for me about this realisation.

something primal, important. guttural.

there was nothing I could to save this.
there was nothing I could do to save us.

we were already dead.
she was already gone.

and in her place, there was emptiness.
and in the place where we were, there was empty space.

I had to surrender to that.
I had to feel that.
I had to make love to that.

and initially, I didn’t know how to do that.

I was used to a woman’s warm body, presence, touch & words.

you can’t fuck emptiness.

that’s the first thing I learned.

you can’t penetrate something that is defined by its lack of form.
you can only allow it to enter you.

I wanted to understand what that could be like, but I had no frame of reference for it.

so, I let it happen.

and that’s what it felt like— letting it happen.

silently letting it in. taking it. being taken by it. but in a way that felt less like being penetrated & more like a welcoming.

I welcomed the emptiness within & around me.
I welcomed the emptiness in her.

it quietly broke my heart.
and it also felt truthful & alive in a way I deeply needed.

the visceral presence of truth felt like home.

there’s another relationship I’m reckoning with right now.

another dynamic I’m dancing with.
and with that, another death.

and it concerns the power I’ve given away for love.

or the hope of it.
or the illusion of it.
or the desire for it.

play with the above as applicable.

this piece has become something other to itself.
it’s pure creative writing, and it’s not just pure creative writing.

it’s truth. it’s whole.

maybe that’s what I wanted all along, and it feels vulnerable.
it feels like dancing with death to put the two together.

it also feels… confusing. strange. arresting. even for me.

I don’t know where I end & you begin.
and maybe that’s the way I’ve felt about you, too.

especially when things are like this.
I don’t know what’s mine & what’s yours.

I don’t know what’s fear (false evidence appearing real) & what’s real.
and maybe it’s okay if all of it is real, even if it almost certainly isn’t.

that’s the basis I’m operating under here.
that’s what I’m [here] with.

I have felt so deeply uncared for by you that in many ways it’s felt as if I’ve been waiting for the final blow.

just tell me I don’t matter to you. tell me you’ve changed your mind. tell me to go.

or tell me that you’ve changed.

change so much that you want to live without me.
change so much that there is nothing to tie us together anymore.

leave. become someone else. become who I wanted you to be. leave me behind as a memory.

that’s all this feels like right now, anyway.

I feel so angry. I feel so betrayed. and I also feel a quiet peace. a quiet acceptance. a quiet… everything.

in your absence, I feel like I’m waiting for you to leave for the final time. and if you do this, this time, I’ll be done too.

and maybe it will feel like freedom.

the biggest fear I’ve had with you is that I will be used & discarded by you.

and perhaps I already was. perhaps this has already happened.
perhaps I am simply living out my worst fears.

if this is true, I can hold that too.

and that, to me, is strength.

these words scare me.

I understand that words are spells, so I haven’t wanted to write them.

and, I’ve watched myself contorting around the block this has created for me.

I’ve watched myself not wanting or being willing to acknowledge the depth of my hurt.

I’ve watched myself resisting & avoiding the truth of my heart. I can’t do that anymore.

the wounded feminine attempts to prove herself for love. she acts in ways that try to earn love. she believes that love can be earned. she believes that whether or not she receives love is a byproduct of her goodness.

she doesn’t see that some things are nothing to do with her.

she uses control (or the illusion of control) to feel safe.

I don’t want to control you anymore.
I don’t want to try to control you anymore.
I don’t want to think about controlling you anymore.
I don’t want anything that isn’t freely given.

so, you must be free to go. in your entirety; in its entirety. done.

I must be free to not matter to you anymore.
and let’s be honest— I already feel it in the ways that matter most.

that’s why all of this has been so painful to me.

I still love you.

I still treat you with love, because that’s important to me.

I am still myself. I’m the most myself I’ve ever been.

I’m still learning what that means.

I’m learning about how much (or how little) I knew about love, and it feels beautiful— if a little destabilising.

I was so young. so naive. so innocent. and I thought I knew it all.

but isn’t that what it means to be young? and isn’t that beautiful?

I kind of love that this is a piece of pure creative writing now.

it feels right; it feels symbolically resonant. and, it feels true.

god, I am so lucky.
god, I am so grateful.
god, my life is so beautiful.

maybe believing in god was all I needed to do

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to dance!
to laugh.
to love.

to be reborn, dancing in the flames.

death is part of life.
death enables life.
death becomes life.
death imbues the living with vitality & wonder.

and, it [still] hurts.

let us be here now.
let us be still here now.
let us be still.
let us be here.
let us be.

let us grieve.
let us feel.
let us return.

these words have no power over us. and, these words set us free.

a part of me died in the dust.
a part of me died here.
a part of me died this year.

so much of me died.
and so much of me lived so fully too.

I put this in the “pure creative writing” section for plausible deniability. I wanted to let myself write without thinking. I wanted to write without thinking. I wanted to spill out onto the page.

I wanted to be safe to burn. I knew I could—would—come alive amongst the flames. I knew that fire & water were my elements. I knew that some things required no explanation.

I knew I was a lover.
I knew I was a fighter.
I knew I was a writer.

I knew I had a lot to learn.

before I went to burning man, I didn’t understand that the dust gets everywhere.

the dust does get everywhere.
and after a while, you kind of forget about it.
you stop noticing it.

but it’s still there.

in the crevices of memory, she became me.
in the crevices of memory, I remembered her name.
in the crevices of memory, I became her.
in the crevices of memory, I moved beyond shame.

I remembered a world I had never known and always felt, and it comforted me. it comforted me when I felt I had nothing else left— emotionally, not physically. and when I felt bereft, overwhelmed, and overcome by the tidal wave, I looked up at the heavens. then, I cried to the moon.

my mother.
my lover.
my protector.
my home.

and then, I met my father. or, perhaps more accurately—I felt my father. I felt my father’s love for the first time, and it changed me.

a lighthouse in the pouring rain. a place I could always look to when I needed guidance. a place in my mind’s eye, beyond prying eyes or judgement.

a place of love.
a place of peace.
a place of power.
a place of security.

and when I spoke to him, my father told me that he had always been here with me. and it touched me deeply because I saw & felt it instinctively. I believed him.

suddenly I saw.
suddenly I knew.
suddenly everything was simple.

I could do nothing but surrender.
I could do nothing but listen.
I could do nothing.

I became nothing.

I laughed at myself.
I enjoyed the silence.

I let it drink me in & take me.

the light in my eyes brightened.
the love in my heart widened.

I became me.

vast, expansive, holy.
fearsome. everything I had always shied away from.
everything I had always been afraid of.

I was afraid of myself and I loved myself at the same time.

then, I stopped being afraid.

my story continues…

there is a solidity & rootedness that is possible when you love in the way we do.

when I, you, we become interchangeable. when my beauty, power & perfection is your own, and vice-versa. when we can PLAY. when we can dance. when we can sing. when we can laugh. when we can feel.

when we can feel.

I love who we become when we can feel.

rachel, you mesmerise me.
rachel, you delight me.
rachel, you tantalise me.

you are me & I am you.

I forgive you.
I forgive myself.
I forgive us.

I feel your heart, your unquenchable lust for life, and it galvanises me. it inspires me. it sets me free. it brings me home.

it reminds me that I belong. I already belong. I have always belonged. and I am so lucky.

I am so, so, so lucky to belong to myself.

we are human & we are failures.
we are godly & we are messes.
we are loving & we are destroyers.

we are everything & nothing. and we are deeply wanted.

onwards, my love.
upwards, and through.
through it all, you have me.
through it all, I have you.

there is no one I’d rather do life with.

I am blessed to be you.
I am blessed to have you.
I am blessed to hold you.
I am blessed to love you.

you are the greatest blessing that I know.

thank you for everything.

- rachel

I say, “I know. I won’t forget it.”

she makes me remember what it’s like to be a child.

soft, open, silly. limitless.

to have the world at your feet, and not realise it.
to be so deeply taken care of, and so loved.

she makes me feel like the man I want to be: a man who lives in alignment with love.

a man who lives in service to love.
a man who lives in devotion to love.
a man driven by a force greater than himself.
a man who is a friend to mother Earth.

by existing, she gives me a vehicle for my deepest longings.
I am the luckiest man in the world to be able to worship her.

sometimes when I look at her, I want to weep.

I want to cry for how lucky I am.
I want to cry for how lucky I feel.

sometimes when I look at her, I cry for how lucky I am to feel like this.

I cry for how lucky I am to be a man who can feel, because I know that not every man feels like this.

she is ephemeral, and ever-present.

beautiful. captivating. magnetic.

I want nothing more than to be the father of her children.
I want nothing more than to spend my life with her.

I see God in her eyes, and he cries for me.
I see God in her eyes when she cries.

I feel God in her touch when she makes love to me.
I feel God’s love for me when I touch her.

when I doubt myself, he reassures me.
he says, “you are man enough for her.”

when I say I don’t know, he shrugs his shoulders.
he says, “I love you, brother.”

the woman I am writing as likes plain text.
she doesn’t care for flourishes.
she is guttural & heart-opening & heart-wrenching.
she is also magic.

she is so fucking magic.

this woman is the most beautiful woman I know.
this woman is the evocation of my soul.
this woman has captured me.

and I love her. I would die for her. I would be happily imprisoned by her for life.
I want to be her slave.

it would be an easy life, and an meaningful one. there are much, much, much worse ways to live (and die). I am not a fool. I know a good deal when I’ve found one.

I know a great woman when I meet one.
I know I want to know HER.

and so, I will do anything for her.

because I want to. because it brings me closer to god. because it brings me ecstasy. because it unleashes me from my shackles. because what I see in her, I also see in me.

we are but mirrors. onward.

she teaches me how not to be afraid.

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