Oh you again. All pristine all over yourself. The blank page. Offering me the solace of your infinite white depths into which I could spill my ink like blood. Bless you for letting me soil you so with my brooding. I haven't written much lately. I've replaced you with bits and bytes. With scrolling screens of sugary pablum and other distractions. I have practiced surrendering to them expertly and can even now, now as I hold this leaky pen hugging my finger in a familiar dark stain, even now I can feel their insidious tug.
So I'll get to the point.
What do I want now?
I want to create and create creators. To make and to teach. To know I am supported by life. To prove a point. To live my belief. To choose more perfectly. Imagine more perfectly. Believe more perfectly. Love more perfectly.
I have always thought of love as an outward facing action. A giving projection of that sweet heartlight shining upon the world. A beam of love shooting out from my chest bouncing off a great reflector just below the surface of my skin and bathing others in a warm glow.
But where is mine? What love is for me? Could it be that I make art so you'll have something worthy to love? (Because it certainly isn't me!) Could it be that if I suddenly have an abundance of love for myself I will no longer need to make art for you? Do I make art to prove my worthiness? And then what if the proof is proved? Will I no longer need my utter obsession? My one true love? My relentless need to tell you how unfucking believably beautiful every moment of creation is?
Shit. This whole thing is a trap.
"Let's spring it, you and I!" said the Gemini. "Let's you and I pop that reflector off the back of this thing and set it to eleven. Set up a feedback loop of love and see if it blows! Let's let some of that love in."
I want to feel my heart open to my self. To omni-direcion that love light so I get bathed in the shine of my own design. To hold my self esteem like a luminescent jewel cupped gently, held sweetly. Energized and beautiful and not so brittle anymore.
Can I love myself? Do I love myself? Yes.
"Well, why don't you marry yourself?" said the mischievous twin.
Hmm. Yeah. Why not? Let's do it!
Dave, do you take yourself, to love, honor and hold in the highest loving esteem until the end of all things?
And do you, Dave, promise to uphold this love, trusting life and holding true to the belief that love is the strongest force in this illusion called reality?
Yes, I do.
And do the two of you crazy kids, merged as one, forgive yourself for your imperfections and past transgressions that make you so beautifully human, accepting yourself for exactly who you are and exactly who you are not?
Then by the authority vested in me, I hereby pronounce you married in holy matrimony. You may signify your acknowledgement by saying only love three times.
And the crowd goes wild.
( Can you find a new and deeper love for yourself in each moment? And if so, what would your vows be to yourself? If you want to play, leave a comment!)