May the Ghost That Haunts Me Have the Voice of Chelsea Wolfe

(written slightly before midnight on December 31st.  A New Years Eve party curling in the living room, me in my bedroom packing to leave the country early the next morning.)

I've been thinking of love and light and the true beauty of one's heart, again.  It's larger than the moment.  Deeper. It's strange to watch things as they go by.

I know the difference between what I can and can't do/control/invest in/change. 

Somehow, lately, I just don't give a fuck.

I will enjoy what I enjoy and will continue to enjoy it.

(pause)

Here is to a year of pressing my heels to the ground when need be, and letting them fall backwards when that is what is called for, as well.

Here is to respect of privacy, of beauty, of love.  Here is to the slight fear that I will evaporate. These things happen.

This year, I will aim to be unafraid, to let glass shatter, mistakes be made, grounding to happen.  Stupidity will be considered, as will the whistling sound that escapes from between the precious teeth of particular ladyish lads and ladly ladies who sing to me.

(pause)

There are, indeed, different points:  It is up to us to connect them.

Be well and be loved.  Wait for noone until it is worth it.

Your heart will unfurl

and this is how you will know.







(image source: Blackmilk Tumblr)