A Void

We are on the way to avoid a void.
Come back to the firmament. Act not in emptiness.

Lesson: to see the sun, the moon, and the stars inside.

Motivation:

A wall, an artifice, something between us, something’s there. A woman, she sees buildings crumble, a road of red, something impenetrable that she’s been placed in. Still, she looks for the way through the void. She knows there’s something there.

At the shore, we see to sea. I to eye the many, we see the sea, the longing for someone, something. And surely, our longing forms, condenses from the starless sonic heavens and gains weight, gravity, momentum. Something falls in the ocean. Ripples come to shore, surely as the sky is falling, something breaks the surface, we just don’t know what it is.

Relationships are borne on these waves, like ripples an ocean, we try to follow them, the longing. But there are obstacles in our path. Some people consider their longing sacred, a gift. Others see it as something to keep at a respectable distance, guilt. These are the walls, gods & masters, the walls that create the illusion of a void. So we didn’t see what fell from the stars above, because these walls were being built up simultaneously as the object was being formed.

Those walls, often we place them in-front of others, unintentionally creation a cacophony of cascading, repeating entropy. Misconceptions and miscommunications canceling out messages with meaning, We don’t want people to feel guilty, so we make a point of scolding something someone might feel guilty longing for. We toe the line into the ocean, and stumble over each other, overbearing, stumbling on stones unturned.

Those stones unturned, they’re now kept at a safe distance. Women who want to want, are left feeling as if they’re missing something. She who is just beginning to see, has begun to feel incomplete. This is what happens: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/29/magazine/29sex-t.html?_r=2&hpw

Let’s not turn our longing into a cascading decadence. Everyone, everyone who feels trapped in a box is capable of at least speaking out. Everyone, everyone who see the girl in the box like the one above and is only capable of saying, “that’s a shame,” and forgetting, is culpable in putting up more walls on both ends. Mine and yours, hers and his, everyone, everyone is able to change this. To begin, we must act not in emptiness. Try to see what is creating the illusion of the void, don’t simply disregard it. One has to acknowledge the terror there to help move one another on. What are we waiting for?

From women who want to want, we come to the Afghan Women’s Writers project.

Here: http://awwproject.wordpress.com/

I would like to share a poem by one of them:

My Pen
January 29, 2010

My lovely blue

You are with me

As I travel

My pen

You write everything about me

Please

Please

Please

You know the meaning of
Please

Rewrite my destiny
You know the boy sitting alone in the street

No legs

No hands

No hopes

Nature forgot him

Rewrite his destiny
You saw the woman

Her face was
Fall
she was a mother of pain

Sick but strong

Had no penny to have a pill

Rewrite her destiny
You saw our neighbor’s son

He doesn’t sleep at night
there is nothing to eat

He paints the face of cakes and cookies

Hangs them on the wall

Rewrite his destiny
My pen
Tell your friends

Red

Black

Blue

Join us, be true, be honest

Write a new page

In humanity’s destiny

Promise, my pen

Promise me
- By Roya

Her words do not cover up the actions, her reality and our world. Her words to not disguise the object, the longing here is for more words. (Here, a well-spring surge of emotion rises in me like a geyser, relating to her, and this is where the connection comes, the emotion, love, across the universe all of a sudden we see we are sharing the same world!) More humanitarian outpouring for the boy on the street. More human kindness for the neighbors, family. More promises made and kept, from the divine pen, the gift of human destiny.

She is able to act. She is able to connect.

As you are.

In your honor, one more passage this post. This one from “From The Dark Places Of Wisdom” by Peter Kingsley

“Our longing is so deep, so immense that nothing in this world of appearances can ever hold it or contain it. So we break it up instead, keep throwing it away - want this, then that, until we're old and exhausted.

It seems easy; everyone does it. But it's so hard to have to keep running from the hollowness we all feel inside, such a heroic task to have to keep finding substitutes to fill the void.

The other way's so easy, but it seems so hard. It's just a matter of knowing how to turn and face our own longing without interfering with it or doing anything at all. And that goes against the grain of everything we're used to, because we've been taught in so many ways to escape from ourselves - find a thousand good reasons for avoiding our longing.

Sometimes it appears as depression, calling us away from everything we think we want, pulling us into the darkness of ourselves. The voice is so familiar that we run from it in every way we can; the more powerful the call the further we run. It has the power to make us mad, and yet it's so innocent: the voice of ourselves calling to ourselves. The strange thing is that the negativity isn't depression. And what we're afraid of really isn't what we're afraid of at all.

Always we want to learn from outside, from absorbing other people's knowledge. It's safer that way. The trouble is that it's always other peoples' knowledge. We already have everything we need to know, in the darkness inside ourselves. The longing is what turns us inside out until we find the sun and the moon and stars inside."