The sweetness of unfurling.

Truth is love. Love is truth. That's why love is all we need.

When I write these posts
as an opportunity to share
— just share—
& feel
—just feel—
they feel cleaner.

In that order.

Share & feel.
Share & feel.

Catharsis, embodied.

Fuck.

I feel accosted with myself every time I see this page. And yet, it’s all I want.

What an erotic metaphor. And what a metaphor for the erotic itself.

… And what a metaphor for most people’s patterns in relationships.

(Wink wink, nudge nudge)

So, I’m here.

So, I stay.

Because it’s important to me.

Because these feelings will not— & do not— destroy me.

In fact…

They’re beautiful too.

They’re the most beautiful thing that is.

I have my Sensate around my neck.

It whirrs comfortingly like a kitten, but without the weight of an animal.

I feel my body soften. I am so grateful.

I get to do this.
I get to live here now.
I get to be here now.

I get to design my life the way I want to.

I get to live like a revolutionary.

I get to live like the revolutionary that I am. Because I am a fucking revolutionary.

I get to have so much fun & so much joy & so much magic right here, right now, every day… as silly old-young-little me.

I am so lucky. So exquisitely lucky.

I melt deeper.

My self-consciousness is adorable.
My discomfort is adorable.

All those times when I’ve tried really hard & it hasn’t “worked” whatever reason… they’re all adorable.

All those times when I’ve said or been too much for someone else… when I’ve shown my cards… when I’ve let myself be my most adorable self & it was like coming face-to-face with a Truth that was too terrifying to handle… it’s all adorable.

Every time I am misunderstood, it’s adorable.
Every time I am unwanted for who I am, it’s adorable.

Because everything is about me is adorable.

Everything. Absolutely everything.

Especially the sweet, lovely inner child that’s playing peekaboo— and gently poking through— right now.

Hi, little one - I see you! How are you today? What do you need right now? Do you want to play? I’m here. I’ve got you. We’re going to go on an adventure today. Did you know that you’re adorable just as you are? Yes you are! Yes, yes, yes you are…!!!! Little Rachel is adorable. You, Little Rachel, are adorable. Little Rachel, I love you!

Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash

And as soon as I wrote that, I thought…

Wait, Rachel.

You’re breaking rule number one.

Yes, this is your blog.

Yes, this has your name on it.
But they don’t want to read about you.

Who do you think you are… to write on your blog… about you?
This is so banal & stupid.

A few people subscribe to this, you know.
You’re writing daily now, for some 100-day challenge.

They don’t want to read about YOU.
They want to read something interesting or titillating or insightful or meaningful.
They want to read something that’s actually USEFUL to them. Or inspires them.
Not this. Provide them with some actual value.

What the hell is this, anyway?

You started so well & now you’re going into existential kink (er, sort of, maybe, if you talk about how this gets you off, which it doesn’t, FAKER FAKER FAKER) & this is going to be waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too weird for most.

And you’re a shitty writer. Or at least… your writing is a mess right now & you haven’t even put this through Grammarly.

And you don’t intend to. You don’t intend to?

You’re telling me you don’t intend to?

Wow, OK.

What the hell is this? What the hell are you doing?
Are you on a one-woman mission to destroy your reputation or something?

Oh wait. I forgot. LOL.

You don’t have one.
Shame you can’t even do a good job at that.

Well, well, well.

That went…

Kinda dark & interesting.

But we’re here now.

So let’s stay.

(That was real, by the way. I didn’t engineer that. I can fuck with myself on demand, but it turns out that I don’t need to… Are you the same? ;))

I think we’re back to the erotic.

Do you understand now?
Do you understand why the erotic is so fucking crucial?
Why the erotic is so fucking sacred?
Why the erotic is what will actually fucking save us all?

Because it’s life. It’s alive.

It does nothing. It requires nothing.
It asks for devotion, but it doesn’t demand it.
It knows you will come back begging for more anyway.

It simply reminds us of what is.

---

Another flash.

Another state-shift.

I feel disappointed right now.

I want to name it.

I don’t need to talk about the what.
The story is unimportant.

I need to talk about the feeling.

The feeling is…

I had hope, and now it’s gone.

The feeling is…

My hopes are dashed.

The feeling is…

I wanted more.
I hoped for more.

And the feeling is also….

I fucked things up.

I don’t care about terminology here.

I don’t want to be precise or polished.

I want to shit on this idea that we need to be a certain way to be legible (understood with precision).

Because, in fact, the opposite is true.

You understand exactly what I mean.

The above experiences are all FEELINGS we can relate to.

The above phrases are more relatable than me using words like ‘disappointment’ or ‘grief’. The above phrases are more relatable than me using flowery words to make it SOUND BEAUTIFUL & in doing so diminish the ESSENTIAL, INTRINSIC BEAUTY of humans connecting in, through & DESPITE pain.

It hurts. I hurt. I’m sad.

There is an ancient wisdom that TRANSCENDS everything else.

You don’t need to know exactly what I mean to be able to feel me.

I don’t need you to know exactly what I mean to be able to FEEL YOU feeling me.

I don’t need questions, GPT-3 aided responses or intellectual enquiries.

I need something real.

I want something real.

We’re all hungry for something real.

We’re all STARVING for something real.

Fuck it. Fuck me.

Truth is love. Love is truth.

That’s why, at the end of the day…

Love really is all we need.