Yes, it has been a month! (sort of, almost, kinda)
This month, I’ve stared death in the eyes and that was as terrifying as it sounds; but I also came to realize the decaying and deathening (not a word, but kind of like it as one) of things, ideas, words, humans, can be just as beautiful as the blossoming of it. This obviously took me some time to realize, lavender played a role in that.
How you might ask?
Well, it is actually, maybe, not a grotesque of a story as you had imagined but one day when I was real emotional (not unreal), I came across a lavender bush, I smelled her and it was like she told me the story of life, of existence. I was suddenly so happy that there are things like lavender in the world even though it felt like everything around me (real emotionally) was crippling. It was like she said: yes Flora, you knew this already but; you can only have happiness with sadness, beautifulness with ugliness - everything has an opposite, that’s what makes life (death) go around.
It was a fresh look at life, even though I had heard it before, I didn’t actually look for it, felt it before.
Here is a poem that I wrote whilst being in the midst of emotionalness :
My head is filled with an abundance
It’s maybe because I’ve been doing this with a lack of interest
And now everybody expects something
My head is filled with - a lot actually
But how to put it on the page,
In the world, on camera, in my fingers on my screen
In?
I am brutally honest, and often hurt by that
I hurt myself and you – but for a cause because what if I lied
Maybe I should lie in poems
It could be something like this:
. . .
Softer, condensed
Ears clinging on to what they want to hear
You touched me there
And I loved you here
Come by next time
I’ll make soup
. . .
A love story between you and a liar
Isn’t that how Hollywood works?
Come by some time
I’ll lie and all our heads will be fine
I made my friend cry while talking about the story about the lavender bush and that made me feel more connected than ever. I’ve come to realize I don’t often feel truly connected- not like my mom who sees connections everywhere (in a beautiful, good way). I wish I could feel more connected, it is the new path I am taking (you) on.
To be continued (& connected)
oh and talking about paradoxes, here’s a poem I found in my notes:
what to say when everything has been said
besides
fuck it all
and
i love you all
i am into paradoxes
they capture life so (un)perfectly
nothing is black and white
so it’s all the in-between
i’m not here to say anything
or is it
everything