hurrying

Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning–
whatever it was I said
 
I would be doing–
I was standing
at the edge of the field–
I was hurrying
 
through my own soul,
opening its dark doors–
I was leaning out;
I was listening.
 
~ Mary Oliver from “Mockingbirds”
 
 
i got up this morning for a while before going back to bed. later, i was up for twentyish minutes and then laid down again. after not sleeping for many days, bed was where i belonged. i stood at the edge of a foggy field of consciousness and hurried to meet my soul. yesterday all i could do was submerge myself in mary oliver’s poetry. her words hurried through my cells, opening dark doors. hurry. every poem of hers that resonated for me yesterday contained the word, rush, feeling of hurrying.
 
i don’t sleep like other people. i don’t eat and exercise and love or sex or work like other people. i had the repeated thought yesterday, wondering if i might one day be able to sleep, eat, exercise, love, sex, and work like other people. every time i pondered it, i concluded that i don’t want to do any of those things in the usual ways. at the same time, i don’t want to do them in my usual ways, either. i want to sleep, eat, exercise, love, sex, and work differently than i’ve done them before, differently than i’ve witnessed anyone else doing them. i can’t do what i can’t do…yet. i can only do what i can, plus a few impossible things that seem easy to me. i did impossible things this morning. i healed my body, my mind, my heart. i traveled through unknowable universes and conversed with lightness, darkness, and nothingness. you are equally capable of accomplishing impossible things, the moment you believe that you can, the instant you believe they are easy. 
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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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