Ubiquitous time resting in polarities of heartache and eternal euphoria. A loving glance, touch, etched in the permanence of our hearts with love. Spoken anger and impatience, how I wish we could move space and gently fold back time. The sweet smell of warm August nights and honeysuckle, to remind us of the days, less worry and bountiful joy. The sound of a siren passing by in an otherwise ordinary moment, resurrects the sharp memory of the day our lives changed forever. Sunday mornings, the quiet, a gift bestowed on us, to reset, rest, and gently remind us to settle into the rituals of nurturing routine and simplicity. Looking out the window of the airplane on the way to say goodbye to a loved one, as you fly above the clouds you find peace and understanding that the universe is made of so much more than our limited senses comprehend. That first bite of warm apple pie that transports you to sitting at your Grandmothers table and the ever-present scent of cinnamon in her kitchen and the comfort of her unwavering love. Our moments, akin to a leaf floating on the ocean, she flows with the tide, the sun and moon decidedly dictate her path. The leaf surely experiencing days of glorious sunshine and tumultuous storms, all the while floating, always moving and never in control. Her story started long ago, she has travelled from limb to land, with tales of wind and glory. Equally fragile and strong, storing moments, built on a continuum connected time . The leaf of autumn, much like you and I. Glorious in her lifelong story, travelling in moments, without a sound.
By Alisa Hutton
When did I forget?
Where in between knowing how to roar and pounce with ferocity did I start to bow to what was dumped on my shore
When did I stop kicking the garbage aside and let it burrow in my heart, that shit, nothing but genetic folklore
Who handed over the gift of my worth and desire like weightless confetti thrown effortlessly, just as ignorance breathes nonsense
At what God forsaken turn did I believe what I was told rather than what my intuition knows?
When did I roll over on my back and let life happen, lose my laughter, spice and interest
Who let me, why did they let me, who was cheering for me, did they not see me go
Stop looking down
You and me
We’re meant for so much more
By Alisa Hutton
There is a quiet voice inside of me I wish could be heard
Inner whispers of a raw hearts hope
Perplexing, too tender to speak and too loud to ignore
In passing moments my quiet voice is kept on wait
An arm’s length away from authentic
It curiously feels as if a leaf tenderly falls from my tree
Leaving empty spaces deep in my roots and little pangs of hurt in my soul
Wishes drifting in the wind
In those who choose not to speak
In silence, nothing ever takes hold
A widening dull gap between flat action and an exposed soul
Empty space that gathers between silence and vulnerability
Trepidation swallowing emotion without care to savor any taste
The flicker of a flame fighting for air
Fingertips barely touching
The heart that will soon be out of reach
The impotence of connection
An island of sadness inhabited by one. The sun no longer seems to rise here or bring a new day. Darkness and silence the only companion to give you warmth. Platitudes arrive on the shore. A message in a bottle from those who feel so far away. I have run the island for months on end in panic and desperation for signs of life, a genuine soul who offers compassion and care. The only thing I seem to find is the reflection of my heart slowing in beat from a lifetime of wear. I often wonder does any of it matter. Will I one day just quietly accept this island stay. Perhaps the learning is accepting the reality and allowing it all to slip away.
Every line and scar I wear and the things you see in my eyes when I do not speak tell a story that is called “my life”. Those who care to know will show gentle curiosity and those who don’t were never meant for my soul. Unsolicited advice is rarely offered in love. Simply the words from those who believe in judgement that my destination is their entitled road. I have fallen like the rest with deafening and heart breaking thumps. I offer thanks. I deeply cherish the rare who helped me stand back up when I was down. I walk with humility and extend the love I wish to know. To think my behavior and care I do or do not show does not affect the world around me would create stagnant flow. Today, I understand the importance of letting my true heart being felt and shown. I wake up scared as there is so much I do not know. This is life and the fabric that will make you whole. I have been blessed to have known love and even if it doesn’t show up it is the direction I choose to go. Criticism is for those with holes in their buckets and are not mine to repair or fill. Their field is theirs. Plant your seeds and care for them if you want them to grow. Time offered in trust, respect and care is the key to my heart. My instruction manual is as follows; be genuine and open and we’ll be all right. I have been around long enough to see the raw workings of life. The nectar of happiness, live with a kind heart and gentle eyes.
Empty spaces that do not bind in connection in a wish to know. A quiet departure unannounced or mindfully shown. An observation simply wrapped that the desire to stand with and beside is not something the pictures show. Like fabric with over stretched thread relationships will either tear apart or be lovingly strengthened and sewn. If love is aloof and never felt the inevitable journey is to walk alone. A plant that is not cared for will always wither regardless of the quality of your soil. History knows unseen emotions and the heart unfed grows plastic connections and lonely souls. Silence and distance; everything needed to quietly go. The crux of connection. Vulnerability, only for the brave who dance comfortably in the unknown.
It is without knowing or guarantee. Blindly jumping off an unfelt edge with no assurance of bottom or gentle landing. Faith in its purest form. Looking out in to the night and desperately trying to adjust your eyes to see, all the while knowing the only thing you need to adjust to is your comfort in total darkness.
Moments that carry our deepest hopes and fears in equal measure. Exposed and held in the same open palm, unprotected and offered to another. In shortness of breath our racing mind tries to control speed and steady the direction with a false sense of security. The universe quietly taps our awareness with heightened physical responses, panic, fear.
Reality; authenticity walks with neither regulation nor control of outcome. Hard and painful, joyous and exhilarating in one deliciously sharp bite. It is your mind screaming “be safe”, reminding you of the last time your heart was shattered in to a million pieces. While your heart steadily whispers “trust”. It is brave, strong, tender, humbling and courageous. The journey long. The destination? True happiness.
Most of us don’t plan to meet her acquaintance. Her friend the universe shakes us awake and invites us in to her shrine. She is a well-kept secret, not for the palate of those who shy away from reality or the sometimes harsh brightness of life. While she arrives at the most inconvenient of times, she soothes my worries with such an oddly offensive kindness. Planning and urgency are not on her to-do list. Simply light and dark and the racing of my mind. While counting sheep some of us seem to stray from the flock for reasons not quite known. Such polarity between mindlessly resting in peace and congnitively traveling in the middle the night through the darkness and unknown. She has a way of screaming my thoughts in the most silent of ways, while in tandem regurgitating every painful second of my day. I once felt bitter towards her unruly and unwelcome company in my bed. I see her now and I am reminded of just one thing. The importance of filling my heart and resting my heavy head.
It is that cool breeze that seems to chill sadness through your bones. The quiet knowing glance of emptiness as you watch the snow fall in the night. Mirroring a raw soundlessness reminding you that you are all alone. Moments of beauty that scratch at your soul, the wish to share them but only echoes roll. It is building a beautiful life for two and the melancholy realization you are the only one who will ever come home. It is thoughtful days that pass by minute on queue and the humble awareness that your day timer may be the only memories of you. It is the empty spaces that you so longingly wish you could fill. You are the silent screams of those unseen. The story of the invisible that never spoke a tale of you and me. Your inner most fear, dying alone without care or notice. A gentle leaf that is returned to the Earth and never known.