bee well

waow, woo - i'm here. i am here. but also not really. always i’m here and somewhere else and i'm thinking - of course i am - i’m always thinking - this time about the nature of greetings and authenticity. the ways we come together and come apart. so unique and familiar all at once. so woven into the expression of who we think and feel we are. so embedded in how we show up, so intertwined with who we trust when we do this thing of coming together and coming apart. i love the word coming - i love all the visuals it brings up - all the ways it comes for my serious heart. you are welcome to laugh or you're welcome to not - either way i don't mind what comes up because something will come up and that's the really sensational part.

okay - so the nature of greetings and authenticity - our comings and goings, our ways of being. i was recently walking beside the longest river in Scotland - the River Tay - autumnally tannic and brooding and bubbling with a thick ancient accent and all i could say to those who walked by was hello because everyone was a stranger and i didn't know if they even wanted that much effort to be tossed on their shoulders so early in the day. but i did it anyway - because i hadn't heard my voice out loud for a day or so - except of course all the talking aloud to myself and the void which is something but the feedback is entirely biased and i can’t really bear to keep getting caught in my own web of calculated conscience - and the vocal chords that inhabit this body i’m in were feeling forgotten about and kept bothering me and so i did them a kindness - as i always do - and i said as little as i could but just enough so they would receive their daily walk and at least a small part of me wouldn't atrophy like my heart has been over the last decade. geez, that's such a long time spent choosing to think that my heart is wasting away.

and yet my heart's really strong - remember that walk I took on the River Tay? i also ran as fast as my heart would run with me - i do that a lot - out of nowhere and it's like i've been given my life back and i’m breathless and so thankful for the friendship of my breath because it always comes back - it makes me remember how much it matters - how much i matter. i guess until it doesn’t and i don't. but for now - while i inhabit this body, my breath will always be there to greet me.

so i keep thinking - always thinking - as more and more of our greetings become mechanical - as in clumsily computerized - it appears so do we, so does our authenticity. i began to feel my voice atrophying like my heart, my voice withering away - becoming unidentifiable like i did that day walking beside the River Tay. i also love to rhyme - i love it because i never have to try - and it seems to be a lost art - the rhyming - that nobody wants to be associated with - as if it's an awkward and embarrassing way to be. when did that happen though? - such a bummer. so i started to think - always thinking - what happens when no one can find us in all these robotic ramblings? what an avoidable tragedy! i think.

so one day - i was preparing to write a love note - i mean an email - and every hi i computerized was followed with mindfully quirky mentions instead of the usual hi, hello or on days i was feeling adventurous, howdy. so i began with hi...sweet, lovely, kindhearted, cutie pie, sugar - anything that was soaked in honey tongued sweetness because while some of us appear to be inhaling smokey hatred - yes it appears to bring you closer to others - temporarily - and is readily available and makes you forget about your atrophying heart - it doesn't stick for very long like honey does - it is ultimately ephemeral - this smokey hatred - and also brings the body towards this heaviness, airy and weighted, all at once. such a strange combination really - kind of like being alive.

then things got really spicy for me - bee well as in b~e~e - yes the fuzzy buzzy blessing we call a bee - emerged at the end of every love note - i mean email - i wrote. i've always had this thing with the gift of wellbeeing. and the bee - b~e~e - no not a mistakenly placed e - unless you want to take all the magic out of life and bee grammatically greedy about it - go for it. i get it. it is possibly a little annoying but i can almost guarantee - you'll remember a love note from me. i also honestly just really adore bee’s. they embody this lifegiving frequency - this lifestyle of wellbeeing - this sweet sweet sweet existence. i aspire to bee like them every moment i can.

i guess i aspire to be a lot of other things other than what i am. i was writing my daily poem yesterday aka my feisty little streams of consciousness and i was wondering about moss - which i also think about a lot. i have this suspicion that 28 years ago - before i found this body i’m currently in - i asked the moss if i could join them this time around. as you can guess - they didn't go for it. they did very kindly let me know why though. they mentioned i required too much salty dew aka tears and i would never survive being this ancient. fair enough honestly. these days i am tempted more than usual to ask again when i notice that strange combination of the airy weight of being alive.

at this point - i’m wondering if my voice has developed enough strength, enough strangeness so you can find me planted and perky amongst this mechanical soil. i'm thinking - always thinking - that the way we come together and come apart - the way i share my atrophying heart, matters. it matters how we show up. it is vital that we come together and come apart in the way only we can come together and come apart. it matters how we show up. it matters. you matter because you are here - even when you want to be moss -it is you that is here, it is you that is enough.