of course my episodic memory is shit, so it's quite possible she never said that even though *i can remember* her face hovering over me as she did, with her palms open, face-up. one grasping at air, the other slinking lower with imaginary weight.
but what do i know?
i know the power of writing things down and dreams coming true.
i know the magic of crying in a broken heap upon the floor at 4 a.m. and wanting to die until the tears have run dry and there's a silent hope in the last, exhausted gasp for air. deflated and too tired to move, you stay there and stare off in awe, until you have to lift your heavy bones in a few hours to get yourself or your kid to school or whatever.
i know the power of creating our world with our thoughts, whether things feel like coincidence or serendipity, or because we have put the actual blood, sweat, and tears into action, which then result in a sometimes desirable outcome.
i know that to want meant to never have and to need was to show weakness and i have to be gentle with myself and foster neither excess or deprivation.
i know that i consider myself a happy person but i wasn't always and it's not without a darn-near constant effort. it sure as hell beats being angry and miserable all the time, which, when you think about it, also takes effort. even if it's easier or more comfortable.
i also know that i'm still one of the saddest and most sensitive creatures i know.
sometimes my friends tell me the perfect things and they remind me that when you feel everything with such intensity, all you can do is cry or have a real, visceral need to avoid as much human interaction as possible.
but what do i want?
sometimes i think i have everything i want. sometimes i think that wanting is a dangerous catch-22, best reserved for those who have truly mastered the power of magical thinking or the law of attraction. sometimes i don't know how to unblur the lines between want and need and what do any of us really even need?
i want to care for my mind, body, and spirit a bit more than i ever have.
i want to do yoga and quit saying i want to do yoga.
i want to sleep in, without qualifying it as a need and without feeling guilty, regardless.
i want to listen to my body and not be scared when i forget things or my muscles twitch or i ache upon waking or feel pings and zaps of involuntary nerve activity.
i want to pick up the breadcrumbs i scattered when i lost myself, to find the way back to myself.
i want to dress up or dress homeless, to show some skin, or not show anything.
i want to be peace and breathe; unafraid.
i want to love, wholly and completely, without reservation or fear.
i want struggle and bad things not to exist anymore, anywhere, for anyone and by that i mean...
i want to see the shine through the shit, the gift in the grit.
i want to sit with open palms, face up, in order to both give and receive. endlessly and without greed. to be a vessel of ongoing, silent transactions, a conduit for change.
the tarot tells me what i needed to hear, in this moment, perhaps what i already know.
the wants + needs + knowledge already within, as is the choice in how to meet them; how to meet myself.
i also pull a card from the mother's wisdom deck, at random. the power in this small act always floors me.
haumea. a card i've not drawn before.
and so on.
mothering and nurturing myself through the right words from a book.
i fill my cup, through wants and needs and desires and hopes and dreams and wishes and magic.
then i share its contents.