sulk. it really is a bit of a sultry word. visions of silk - soft and slow in our hands. there is certainly a slowness to sulking. i feel there is a silken quality to it as well - a secret softness that lives within the center of those that walk often into the sulking world.
defined as the following from the oxford languages: be silent, morose, and bad-tempered out of annoyance or disappointment. we must also acknowledge the synonyms and antonyms - my absolute favorite way to navigate the essence of a word. this is where - for me - words come to life. synonyms: mope, brood, pout, be sullen, have a long face, be in a bad mood, be put out, be out of sorts, be out of humor, be grumpy, be despondent, be moody, be resentful, pine, harbor a grudge, eat one's heart out, moon around, be in a huff, be down in the dumps, be miffed, glower. antonyms: be cheerful
mmm yes. okay. moon around. that is so delightful. what a treasure to find and a gift to be given. it makes me want to be called out as a sulker - just so i could say “oh do you mean i’m mooning around - how tragic.” i think that would actually shake me out of my sulk quite quickly in all of its mooning delight. i'll let you know how it goes when i try it out - because you can almost guarantee you'll find me walking often into the sulking world. and then we have the stand alone antonym of be cheerful. a sturdy opposite. boisterous and blissfully ignorant. charming and chiseled with a muscular kind of madness. Magnetic. be cheerful - a way of being i have longed and sulked for - only to feel dishonest and far away - listening for a cheerful chirping of devotion - for my body to move through it all, lightly.
darling sulking. a quiet saboteur. a pesky pessimist. a grouchy guru. a lover of longing - devoted to the storytelling of directionless disappointment, also known as destined delight.
longing and sulking - they are childhood sweethearts, or so i’ve been told. many words hold the hearts of another and longing and sulking, they are seaside lovers. i have a darling friend with hair that curls towards the light like a silver fern and a name that sings like the emerald grass of the sea - Sonya - she sat serene - in the silver fern midday light - sharing a story of the way she met longing recently - the kind of story that changes your own.
longing - at dawn was sitting in a cracking wooden rocking chair with sage tea steaming and an elder story to tell. this darling friend with hair that curls towards the light like a silver fern – with sage tea steaming and her trusty vessel of a poem by her side - ready to listen, ready to honor a new story and let another one find its end. longings tone is deep and dense like an old growth forest. they descend into story...
when i met sulking - i was hypnotized by frothy pools of abalone and an aching in my chest. sulking was building dribbly sand castles out of watered sand at the sea's edge where every few moments - the tide would separate the sand and the water again and the frowning would commence. both stuck in our own worlds - both defeated by the stories we were told. both here by the sea to let the stories unfold - maybe to let them go, to give them away like messages in bottles.
eventually - this daily seaside ritual - this slice of citrus life, bright and aromatic - gives way to the day to day to day. we both began to walk away from our aching and frowning states - returning to our practice of dimming the rest of the day until darkness cocoons. but this time - like a bright winter planet - we pulsed towards one another. there is silence and the swoosh of silken sand beneath us - but what's most pronounced is a sensation, an unidentified energy between us - a sensation so unfamiliar that we saunter past one another - feeling the magnetic pulsing, the magnetic peace pulsing, churning within like the winter sea until we meet again to discover its origins, this sensation of destined delight.
when i first embraced sulking - it was like a weighted blanket was cast over us. a settling. it is in the very nature of our lives, our day to day to day - my directionless-ness, sulking’s disappointment, that we remain open to possibility - to what is and what can be. it is what keeps us honored and curious by the aging tides. we carry an expansive love - always reaching for what is grand and often unattainable, considered and often unconsolable. it is in this silent reaching that purpose can be revealed. i reveal to sulking the possibilities, the potential always available. sulking reveals to me that it is in the silent rustling, in the uncertainty and discontent that we can rest and await to hear what is possible. together - we reveal the journey of us all. the silent reaching required to follow the beacon within.
while sulking forages for grieving salve - a gift only given on birthdays, i forage for the brightest shell - a gift only given on our last days. we are the offering - a soothing balm, a healing treasure - to grieve the disappointment of what we long for and may never have in the way we imagined we'd have it. we ask you to celebrate this. sulking whines - fermenting us while i wallow - swallowing us. both are life-giving practices that get us where we need to go, through. to embrace the tidal waves of disappointment, to embrace the not knowing, to embrace inquiring.
the love story of longing and sulking serves as a reminder that there are many stories to be told, many to be given away, some are to be kept on the shelf, attractive and alluring while others are to be given away, cherished and passed on and some are to be kept within for safe keeping, held close and read daily. you could say they are the loungers of life - the slow long walkers, stories told with long pauses, with silence, sculptors, thoughtful leaders, solitude seekers, the ones who inquire. it is easy to get lost in the soothing scenarios of our imagination as we hear the story of longing and it is easy to get lost in the relief of our discontent when we hear the story of sulking. in the coming together of longing and sulking we see the celebration, the muscular madness of cheer in i don't know, so i’ll wonder and i’ll wish and i will always come through, true. what i imagine as i long and what i release as i sulk - one story of many to come. the more we allow life to unfold and we unfold with it, the more stories we have to tell - ones that are attractive and alluring, others given away and some kept within for safe keeping.
the demands placed upon longing are exactly what brings them vitality. the demands placed on sulking are exactly what brings them to fade so swiftly, serving their purpose as temporary relief. when you meet them - really meet them - you are jolted into liveliness, oceanic mycelial agency towards what's ancient, tried and true. this is a worn in love. to long is to live, to sulk is to signal. when something is not longed for - it is short lived. when something is not sulked for - it is sunken, only to resurface again when you least expect it. together they tell the grandest stories - stories that live on for lifetimes. they require resilience - to reach and keep reaching - not to avoid settling, cherishing - instead to become settled, to cherish the reaching. to embrace inquiry - to see their place in the changing tide pools of grief and gratitude. these words - brought to life and misunderstood no more. embraced as they are, the sea dwellers of destined delight.
I get it, longing is hard
It’s weight in the bones
the hole in your chest
All the what ifs, if only’s, and will I ever’s swirling in a sphere that you cast out to sea
like a message in a bottle
No destination
No direction
Even the word itself - longing
Implies that something is far away and out of reach; even if my fingertips had eyes I’d still struggle to see
But what about its antonym?
What are you shorting in your life?
Not letting grow, not giving time, moving through motions quick and jabby
Think of the short words -
Short-tempered, short-sighted, a short-stop
Why would we ever want that?!
So I encourage you -
Go Long
Reach
Believe that it’s just beyond the horizon
You’re alive aren’t you?
Longing awakens the spirit
Moves your muscle
A sign that your heart is beating
You want -
You desire -
You hope -
You hold -
So celebrate your longing
It is a signal
A beacon from beyond, from over the sea, guiding your vessel home
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