naked.

This white page, this blinking line is not helping.That much I know. It’s all churning inside me: these words, this beauty. A hurricane of fragmented memories, unfinished sentences and suppressed questions all brought to fruition by way of a simple invitation.

“I’d like to get to know you better” he said. “I’d like to get to know myself better” I now realize. “I’d like these questions answered. These fragments of who I think I am pieced together. These little glimpses and flares of passion justified”, I think in retrospect. But no. I hear no reply.

And so these musings go unanswered. These shards tucked away in the innermost part of me. Neatly placed atop one another, wrapped with caution in a beautiful brown ribbon with white polka dots. It’s not like before, haphazardly thrown inside and locked away. This time just put aside with the suspicion that they are infinitely important. Some sort of key or missing link to the blueprint of who I am…but, until this moment, forgotten. Definitely forgotten amidst the other hidden, priceless reflections.

I’ve been cruising along up until this moment…resigned to this monotony. This day-to-day living, void of the beautiful things that home themselves in little shanty villages within my heart. They are unable, it seems, to escape this world - and if I am entirely honest, self - imposed prison.  It seems I’ve been convinced, and wrongly so, that those beautiful glimmers, in varying degrees of abstraction, could not survive but within the confines of my soul. They do not possess the qualities or reinforced nucleus necessary to thrive, with the exception of within. They will never be reality – and mayhap I never really experienced them. The reality of those glimmers becoming, daily, but a dim flicker of what may have been, but probably wasn’t.

And that’s how it works, isn’t it? We allow the beauty to stay imprisoned within and eventually, usually slowly, lest we recognize this terrible thing that is the watering down of vibrant, wild and excited strokes of passion, it fades to the colorless and dilapidated version of what we once knew.

I implore you not to mistake these words to say that there has not been life or hope or beauty. Only it seems to be through fogged lenses and drunken speeds that the last 6 months transpired.

I had hope for the future albeit a clouded hope. A hope that teetered dangerously on the lie that it did not really exist. A hope that lived in the chains of “I made you up and positioned you to make myself feel secure and give purpose to what I fear might actually be meaningless.”

But this hope was planted in the core of who I am before I even tasted this life and in one dangerously beautiful moment – a torrent of violent emotion - was revealed to be pure and authentic.

In a blinding flash I found myself invaded by truth. The kind that cleaves the lies of death and doubt from your inner self and leaves you weightless and secure. The viewer punched rewind and the shards were removed, untied, and laid back out on the floor, but this time the unseen was revealed. The slight shifting and evolution of my reflection. The unveiling of my blue print which seemed to have been there, rolled out on the wood floor, all along – If only I’d noticed the clutter of the mundane obscuring vital sections. But no matter.

The clutter swept aside with one powerful sweep of those capable arms. Capable of the most violent awakening but more often than not used to encircle and wrap one in the warmth and depth of Love. Important details wacked out and brought to light with one giant pointer stick all in the matter of seconds. It was as if the viewer had simultaneously hit rewind and forward, leaving me at the heart of pandemonium.

I was frozen. and all around me whirred this fusion of life and truth and beauty and hope. and all at once it collided in this fierce, delightful and irrefutably divine explosion powerful enough to strip away everything but the framework of my soul, and at the same time so incredibly gentle and quiet.

I don’t know how it’s possible… and I won’t endeavor to explain the mechanics behind it but in between the fabric of the cacophony the quiet voice of love resounded in power with a depth I know I could never find the end – and what more, I hope to never find.

so here I stand: naked. stripped bare. and undeniably whole.

Taren MarounComment