“I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.”
― Anais Nin
I’m not feeling very strong right now so I decided to write to you. Maybe you need someone to think of you today and reach out. Sometimes quiet acknowledgement is the best kind. A reminder, a nudge, a glimpse of a soul.
Don’t forget to look for me. I’ll be the quiet one standing on the edge of everything. Feeling more than I can handle, noticing way too much.
Feeling hopelessly human, both liberated and shackled by my intense way of being.
Solitude is my air. The sea is my world.
I dive into the sea, come up for air, then dive in again. I see things that amaze me and horrify me and fill me with awe. The salt overwhelms, the constant motion takes its toll, but for all its danger and uncertainty, I can’t help but love the sea.
I feel strange and alone, then I remember you are just like me. We don’t have to see to believe. We don’t worry about what others think. We don’t do what they do. We see the ones who are still pretending. We were like them. Running out of air. Staying in the sea for too long. Sirens inside, lungs burning and collapsing. Panicked, we thrashed and kicked, only to be sucked into the current.
But we made it out, didn’t we? We learned to swim without being consumed by the water. Now, we dive in to save others. To show what transformation looks like. To embody the power of feminine energy and presence. We love our bodies, our faces and our smiles. We love our desire and our passion for love. Quietly, intentionally, we make soul-stirring waves.
Look for me. We’ll share our stories.
We’ll know without seeing and feel without defending. You can cry and laugh with me. I won’t judge. I won’t tell. I am you, don’t you see? We are perfect, intimate strangers with inside jokes and shared dreams. Bright-eyed and huge-hearted, swimming in the same sea, determined to rise above.
Don’t doubt that this message is for you. You’ve felt the fullness, haven’t you? The fullness of your soul trying to experience itself. When you’re up at night and it’s just you and the moon. The nurturing joy of self-indulgence — your music, your art, your imagination.
What about the rise, the feeling of expansion, being part of something bigger than yourself, when aroused by creative, vulnerable conversation? The comfort of a warm, intuitive presence. The feeling of being next to someone who is grateful to be in your space. Tell me you know all about that.
Did you think you were alone?
I’m here and I will stay as long as I can. Quiet on the outside, ablaze on the inside. Here on the edge, catching my breath, ready to dive in again. I will reach out to you. I will find you through glances and smiles and words and craft.
We who are drawn to beauty and meaning, the complexity of all things. We who want to make a difference. We who compare our inner worlds to our outer worlds, always contemplating the spaces between. We who find freedom in soul-searching, dream chasing and believing in miracles.
Please say you will look for me.
Rescue me when the sea of sameness gets wild and I start to get carried away. Find me when I get stuck and I forget to breathe. Be my mirror. Show me your colors, show me your light, so I can be reminded of mine. I may be hard to find. I’m not one to scream and shout. I’ll be the quiet one with the booming heart. Pull me up. I will do the same for you.