Knock knock…

Someone came knocking on my door one day. Actually, it was over a period of time. The persistent knocking was so faint at first it was easy to ignore it for a while… for a long while. Longer than it wanted to be ignored, but regardless would have stayed at the other end of the door until I answered it. And I did… numerous times. The conversation always the same…

Knock knock

Who’s there?

You

You, who?

YOU

Me?

Yes, you

What do you want?

You

Me what?

Wake up

…but I like to sleep

Enough already, you didn’t come here to sleep

…but it’s easy and feels good

For now it may seem that way but you and I both know what needs to be done

What?

Wake up

And do what?

Live.

 

When truth comes knocking at the door, there’s no ignoring her. She’s the annoying pet we look pass because it wants our attention and affection when we don’t want to share it. She’s the little splinter no tweezers or needle can get to so just have to wait for the little fucker to squeeze itself out.

A fresh paper cut… a pool of blood oozes into a ruby red bead.

So delicate and beautiful; those few seconds of our inner makeup making its presence known, piercing though the surface. Than it drips and streams down from the force of gravity and abundance within… or just that our protective membrane has been breached.

Suck. Hold. Wash. Wait. Band-Aid.

Whatever methods we use to stop the bleeding we are reminded of the truth. The truth that we are all creatures who bleed. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. But somehow we have associated the pain of bleeding to be avoided. That it’s so scary we might die! Well, clearly we forget the truth here too. We are going to die. But we have been sold this truth must be feared and have bought into such a ridiculous bargain the focus shifts. So, we forget to live. Not only from fear of death, but the fear to bleed… to fail, to come up short, to be rejected, to feel pain, to be ignored, to not be enough, to never getting there… and on and on the list of doors comes between she and I.

But she’s always on the other end knocking. I can ignore her for a while if I so chose to. But I always answer her calls and have developed the most precious relationship with her. Her beauty resonates within me like hot tea slowly going down my esophagus. The warmth. The salty tears. The saliva that jumps out of my mouth and dives into the world from the pool of passion. I live.

RY