Don't look, just leap

I’ve spent so much time being afraid, not trusting that everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be, not trusting that nothing I could do could make love leave me.

I open my eyes now in a vast otherworld dimension open to me: a world where I do not filter my spontaneity for fear of being laughed at. A world where I don’t ask questions and my brow only furrows when I crinkle my nose at the one I love.

My eyes aren’t closed, they’re open, because I trust that I am safe to be me. I trust I am safe to follow the impulses of my heart and not look, just leap.

Love has cracked me open, different layers of love, rapidly unfolding over one another.

This world is still on the ground of the one I used to know, but my voice is different. I can’t hear it the same way. It sounds like my voice before I was born, like a voice that exists inside the layers of my skin: warm and soft and uninhibited.

It is my voice that loops like wind through an open field, rippling across the expanse, dancing merrily, laughing with itself, tickling the air around it.

Love envelops this voice in a way I’ve never felt before. I close my eyes because I want to feel it more, but I don’t need to. In this world I can feel just as much with my eyes open. My senses still sense. My eyesight doesn’t take over. My body still trembles and my nose takes in waves of scent and my fingertips pulse over every ridge of guitar string, every shift in temperature, every smooth patch of skin.

I am alive and joy reverberates around my spontaneity.

I start to sing with the four chords I know, sing with a silly twang, sing and start to make up words that refuse to match the rhythm so I talk through it, laughing, laughing, my head falling back, my hair everywhere, my skin sparkling, my eyes full of mischief and self-realization.

with joy and confetti,

Alexa