having more than 8 limbs

November 23, 2014

this journey is a strange one, and often so very lonely. slipping and falling with no one to catch you except for yourself. working so hard towards something with no one to applaud you except for your own ego, and just like that, you've slipped even harder, and still - there you are, applauding your way down to the bottom alone. the way we eat, the hours we wake up, the conversations we like to have - many days these things happen all on our own. we get made fun of, friends and family get angry, they don't understand. we're freaks. we are. and you - you really begin to believe what they say -  until you meet each other. until you crack yourself open with an audience who is also busy digging between their ligaments and bloody tissue to pull out their heart. until you realize you're not the only one who has chosen this way, and even though it may not get me into medicine or graduate school, this path is valid, too. it isn't fair to tell us we're not living in reality, or to chide us because we follow the moon. it isn't fair that you look at us funny when we decline a drink, or that we must continuously prove from where we get our protein (we're strong girls,  we ain't going anywhere). because every single morning at dawn we're at work. every single morning we rub our eyes with focus, yawn with a chanted intention, lift our arms to battle our perceptions once more. every single morning we're busy sucking the venom from our wounds, healing them with our tears and our sweat - the deep well of darkness within us has a  streaming supply of both. this doesn't make us better than you or you or anyone. this doesn't separate us, it makes us more connected. we know very little and have even fewer answers,  but we do know our practice makes us better than who we were the day before, and so we return - each day chipping away one more fleck of ego, swimming through the mud in hopes of finding a lotus flower, sitting patiently atop our darkness because if we apply enough pressure, a diamond will emerge. there are libraries filled with paths and maps and destinations. i'm still just trying to figure out where i want to go, and more importantly, where i need to be - yet slowly i realize i'm already there. we all are. destinations don't exist without expectation. so this is where i am. for today, in this moment. tomorrow it will change, as it did the day before. time is made up anyway. and i just want to thank that little room, the strong man with the scratchy beard, and these girls from my very messy heart for walking with me these past few months -  it's been so much less lonely. we chose the eight limbs on our own, but it feels so good to have so many extra limbs to catch me before i fall 

Written by the beautiful Arielle Egozi.  Check out Arielle on instargam "Ladysavaj"