Who Pronounced You Dead?

Hi, I'm Hillary. I believe in alignment, magic, creation, and expansion, and am terrified of being a fraud. I'm hiding from a child, behind a child. 

I...I...I...

You see, the beginning of my life revolved around one single theme: The Gifted Child. Ever since I was a young gal, I've been told that I had this extraordinary capacity--adults in my family, teachers, peers, bosses, strangers with whom I shared a moment’s conversation…etc. And so at an early age, I promised the universe to do something extraordinary with my life. 

In my earlier days, my differentness caused chatter in my family, and I remember being instructed by a distant relative to stand strong in life because there were people waiting for me to fail. As a young gal, I felt isolated...isolated form my peers, isolated from the world, isolated from who I was. All I knew was that I had to do something magnificent with my life, and I had to guard this gift of mine, even if it was with elitism, deceit, isolation, self-rejection, shame, guilt...etc. 

There was also a deep need within me to protect the people who believed in me. In a way, I was responsible for their word and faith. They didn't pressure me to become great. They believed in meand that was so much more. (In fact, all my parents ever taught me to do was to use this gift of mine to follow my heart and build a simple, beautiful life). But The Gifted Child was everything I knew. 

She (the child) shaped me into who I am today. At a young age, she taught me to embrace my uniqueness. While other children were learning how to read time, she spent the majority of her time pondering the meaning of life. This child quickly grew impatient with the pace of life and boundaries of time, money, and such. She was to beat time, live outside of its boundaries. She was to live many lives at a time. And money? She was to create a new form of currency...The Gifted Child, she felt this unimaginable force within, this ability to see, feel, and understand things that no one else did. 

She...She...She...

Ah, The Gifted Child. She was my most powerful asset and my deepest hindrance, a gift and a curse. 

She had trouble connecting with people. She was afraid to be who she was, and afraid to disappoint the people who believed in her. And worst of all, She felt like a fraud. Constantly. She never felt like she was good enough. 

Elitism, deceit, isolation, self-rejection, shame, guilt were just a few symptoms. The only time she felt at peace was while watching genius movies or reading Nietzsche, or Emerson, or Einstein...etc. That's still true to this day. 

So I suppressed her to the extent that I could. I rejected her. And she rejected me.


I turned 25 this past weekend. I still haven't changed the course of history

At 25 years, I sit here battling the inner child within me. The one terrified to make mistakes and expose herself, mortified that they'd discover she was a fraud, and all the lies I've ever told to cover up the fact that she was just another gifted child who couldn't make it through the scopes of society. Let me explain...

They...They...They...

They pull out their telescopes to hunt me down. They capture me only to put me under a microscope. Had they looked through a kaleidoscope. They would have seen me. They would have realized that I'm everywhere. 

That we can't exist without each other. That we're a consequence of each other's thoughts, actions, and beliefs. That we live both for each other and from each other. That in this life of infinite love and change, all we're really looking for is alignment. 

Alignment with each other. Alignment with the universe. Alignment with ourselves deep within. 

Only after understanding that did my inner child put down her telescope. And microscope. 


I'm been afraid my entire life, running from myself and hiding from that child, the unfamiliar power within. I wasn't afraid of disappointing everyone else. No, I was afraid of disappointing her. I never had a life away from her. In a way, she had pronounced me dead before I could take my first breath. 

But I took my first breath, and the breaths that followed were inhaled with intent to suppress her. I had a bag full of ammunition: telescopes, microscopes, periscopes...the same ones she had used against me. 

I wanted for so long to pronounce her dead. To break free of the chains that contained me. To unleash the me beyond her, and to show her that she was the only thing holding me back from coming alive. Put an end once and for all to elitism, deceit, isolation, self-rejection, shame, guilt that she had caused by destroying her. 

But elitism, deceit, isolation, self-rejection, shame, guilt is not the means to that solution. What I can do is pull out my kaleidoscope and invite her to do the same. 

Should we put an end to all this? 

Who pronounced you dead?

...What does alignment mean to you?

 

Morning Thoughts

This morning, a friend shared with me a story about his lovely morning adventure. My first instinct was to say, "Ah, that's incredible, I'm wildly envious!" But what I truly meant was, "Wow, you're beautiful. I'm deeply inspired by your story."

I think oftentimes, we focus on what others have that we don't, and it brings us to a place of comparison rather than unity. In these moments, we're faced with a choice; we can either feel envy or inspiration. I promise you they're equally powerful.

Betrayals Erased

Swimming in the sand so dry
We lied beyond our dreams
Wishing for a star’s reply
With a spark we could redeem.

Once a beating heart so fertile
Now crushed beneath your hands
Entangled between love and peril
Bleeds lost with no command.

I’d proposed to get away from here
And you’d supplied the how
And all our trust from all our years
Could not withdraw us now.

You’d what promised you would never
Still, begged I stay and fight
I begged to learn what she’d tendered,
And for love to stay the night.

The rest shall be it all fictitious
For love has earned me grim
Could not imagine a love so vicious
Thus chose to be with him.

I dare not now undo the wrong
To amuse a boundless chase
It’s not where you and I belong
Thus our betrayals I’ll erase.

For now I must call you a friend
As you still bring me light
But dare not yet be naïve again
To render one more fight.

Don't You Wonder

Do not wonder
If you are the kind 
Of woman men desert.

Please stop piling up
A list of things you are
Just so you can overwhelm
Yourself into thinking
That you’re overwhelming
To everyone, and anyone
In retrospect but desperate
To make sense of 
Something, and anything. 

Do not ask yourself
Why you keep searching
For men who stray
And do not believe that
It’s because you never wanted
Love in the first place,
Place yourself first.

And do not leap into
A relationship thinking
“It makes sense.”
Run or swim or stride 
Into one but make sure
You make sense.

I wish for you
Nothing but to fall
Like leaves to soil,
For your own soul. 

But if you are to paint
That picture, then paint it
Whole, take the entire pile
And launch it into the wall
Watch as your canvas
Melts to color and blood and
Collapses to its knees
The beautiful splash
The floor, the wall
The colors dripping
In the collision, you
Reach your tongue out
And taste the brilliant
Enchanting detonation 
Of all the different
Lives you pretended to live
The weight of the
Unlived still calling, stirring
And the lives within you
That have never met
Let the colors run
Into each other because 
That’s how new colors
Are created, and mix them
Deeply, beautifully, completely.

Your mosaic, I promise
Will make them dizzy
But imagine please, just 
For a moment these
Kaleidoscopic eyes 
Filled with ecstasy, ones
That see and dream in color
In motion, in musical notes
Imagine a pair of eyes, yours
That will motion your colors
Into a story only you sing
Because I promise out there
There are more, and by dancing
To your own colors you
Invite them to explore. 

Let your colors
Misbehave more often
Let them dance and
Not just in any soul
But another soul with
Kaleidoscopic eyes that swing
To your colors and sing
A story you can spend
Your life painting.

Don’t apologize to the world
For making them dizzy
And believe me, you’ll
Never have to apologize to him
For being soft because
Darling soft looks gorgeous
With that mosaic soul of yours
And soft will be the color
Of the eyes that hold you.  
Don’t ever wonder—if love is
Something you must ask for. 

What We Run From

That moment
When fire drips
From my tongue
And wrinkles sink
Beneath your lungs. 

And we’re forced
To wonder if
A feeling stored
Is a burden more. 

Cause we both know
The torment has only
Just now begun. 

Message in a Bottle

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Hello Stranger,

Stranger things have happened,
Taller walls have drowned.
Yours to mine connected,
To heights we must astound.

One cast into the currents
Waves friendship from the ground.
And ancient shores will empty
To send you and me home-bound. 

My Low Budget High Spirit

When indecision
Becomes your friend
Allow your heart
A gentle cleanse.

Blushing with color 
Her sunset sky
Colors the velvet
A sweet goodnight. 

Just remember that
Those who love you
Love themselves 
The same way 
Those who reject you
Reject themselves 
The same way, and
Those who expand you
Bathe in stardust
Everyday. 

So take your time
Breathe in whole
Yield to seductions
Of your soul.

Paint your spirit
With songs old and new
And inhale the ocean’s
Calming wild blue.

Sprinkle all worries 
Over the sand
And let the ocean
Wave you her hand. 

Laugh about forever
What fiction sublime!
Cause we live but one
Half breath a time. 

Breed lasting forevers
Lifetimes in days
And release infinity
In memories erased.

An epic novel
This year shall be written
The past but a page 
Of memories forgiven. 

Hell, tear the chapters
Awaken explosions!
Perhaps then we can live
In short stories and poems. 

Free all lives unlived
And spirits untamed
For universes reborn
Are stories unclaimed.

Lift free your soul
To adventure again
Discard your notepad
But uncap your pen. 

Feel peace in the wild
Eternally rising
May true love find you
Just as you're hiding.

Don’t run from emotions
Charge toward them all
Your arms might crumble
But so will your walls.  

Please, save your soul
Tremble, my dear,
Not in shame
Tremble in glorious, 
Wild, epic
Anticipation
For all that awaits
Cause what are we
But creatures
Dipped in heart
Drenched in soul
Drowned in love
Starving for one
Moment's enchantment 
Tremble, my dear,
Because you are home
To a wild, glorious, epic soul. 

Let every soul 
You touch expand
And all that seems lost
Shall return again. 

Yes I blush and I tremble and I fall and I run
May the low budget to my high spirit be
How all short stories and poems’ve begun.

Tribute To A Soul Friend

A few years, I found a soul friend. He didn't know me, and I didn't know much about him. He was a star and I lived across the globe. But at our cores, he and I were made of something of the same substance. 

A few days ago, I found out he has passed away from a possible suicide. That soul-throbbing emptiness, I have felt before. 

You know the days when you look up at the stars and instantly feel your worries fade? Is it possible that we, as beings, are connected to the substance of another star? 

And one day, we look up and feel a dreadful emptiness and a hint of guilt. With no previous understanding that we ever connected with that one star, and no knowledge that the star is no longer there. Still we sit there, consumed by emptiness, feeling so whole and so empty, so big and so small, so ancient and so naive at the same time. 

I can't help but think that if only he knew I existed, that he had a soul friend, that we would both feel a little more whole right now. And this is why I do this. 

Remember That

Darling one day, should you push
Away years of fantasies you chased
The dream you thought you’d never find
When comfort pretends to never lie
Remember that

We made promises to the person we were
And not to who we will become
So when one day you find yourself
On your knees bleeding
Your organs cave and instincts crawl
Promise me you won’t wait
Don’t you dare wait til skyfall
Remember that

Feeling when your heart drops
And your skin swells
To the past tastes and faint smells
Of love and belonging and dreams come true
Oh darling, please let
New dreams become too.

The poor advice of past voices
Leave them behind
And void of the new
Let them shake and let them stir
Remember that

The light in the cracks
It must pass through
And when it does, get after it.
Leap, my darling, and don’t look back.

Until the wind breaks your face
And the branches take your skin
And let the waves of ocean
Cleanse the palette within.
Let the sweat-built armies
Free fall off your chin
As suns from different universes
Bless you with the same power
The gods built you in.
Remember that

Running is not a sin.
But the how we begin,

Tomorrow, Your Apollo

Countless Kingdoms these legs’ve wandered
Plunged in tides and yet still risen
Volumes of knowledge I’ve yet conquered
Shelved this head a virgin prison.

Ancient verses I‘ve been taught
Thousands of tributes I’ve thus spared
Alongside servants I have fought
Yet love still finds me unprepared.

Wandering seas led you to my shores
And framed in light you gallantly stood
Through my heart a wavelength tore
And sparked a fire through the woods.

You emptied my mind of ancient kingdoms
And cleansed my soul of native tides
Snapped free the bars of endless prisons
And promised a love in which we’d rise.

But the hands of Dionysus let loose the wine
And waves of skies those mean reds swallow
Clenching valiantly my prophecy divine
As she rains the bleeding heart of Apollo.

“Love and madness,” he screamed with rage
Muffled by my suffocant breath
“Will fall to thee an endless cage
And lure swoons to their deaths.”

Fleeing the city of fallen ruins
To seek the words of Guinevere
I followed the road less travelled
To a fairer maiden it’d then steer.

Tea met me with the Fair Helen
Who spilled her heart out on her dress
Wearing the armor of beauty’s felon
And fragrance of Lady MacBeth.

Roam did I the lands with Caesar
Of human blood he’d spray perfume
Climbing the balcony to try to please her
Jesting at scars that haven’t felt a wound.

He drove me into the arms of Picasso
Where I played with forces I did not know
Pumping my veins with blood-filled tabasco
That let the seas of madness howl.

I sensed it all begin to fade
Captivated by the Serpent’s lullaby
I completely faded away
And murdered my only alibi.

Deep, deep down a deep, deep valley
Tickled a blazing glow
Who should I see but the brilliant you
Upon the pyramid of Maslow!

Looked back down a Ponce or two
At a wrinkle-collecting fountain
And realized that to reach the top
You’d have to turn the mountain.

A sapphire tinted pair of wings
An Angel wand’ring hidden spheres
Onto you my body springs
And into yours my faint arms flare.

With you lies the myth of  Socrates
A question far, far yonder
Untold volumes of hypocrisies
Still yet, I grow fonder.

In the heart of another crisis
In the fate of another tomorrow
You’ll be my Dionysus,
And, I, my beloved, your Apollo.

Again It Starts

To you my heart has flown
To yours my body’s fled
With yours my soul’s been sewn
By the angels’ golden thread.

A simple glance you’ve sent
Runs shivers down my spine
And everything dissolves
To where the stars align.

At night we close our eyes
To explore the vague abyss
Desires awoken inside
By a gentle midnight kiss.

Your chest rising and falling
Like a garden of musical notes
Your eyes calling and calling
To yours my body devotes.

A touch of love upon me
Ignites a vibrant hue
And the promises of your vision
Keep wide my eyes for you.

The thoughts of your hands nearing
The whispers of your breath
Eyes helplessly endearing
Brings resistance to its death.

Within your mouth a current
That forces my lips apart
The moment you hold still
We’re begging to restart.

You have my heart
The way it drops
The way it stops
The way it pops
And the way it starts

One More Fight

There lived no loss
In those past goodbyes
We’d always move on
Cause we always knew why.

And those who could’ve loved us
We’ll never wonder who
We’ll wake up every morning
With each other to pursue.

And if you need me to find you
I’ll always know where
The walls of hell I’d swim through
This to you I swear.

And if this isn’t true love
I don’t know what is
We dream in vibrant colors
Even in the darkness.

What matters isn’t when
Or why or how you’re not
Not who or where you’ve been
But that you own my heart.

But if we ever dare to
Brush this love away
Then I only wish to release you
From all debt, and
That these words I say today
You’ll remember to forget.

I promise I won’t commit
To a man who’s less than you
And if you find new happiness
I hope the same is true.

If you found her in a crowd
Did you two meet eyes?
Like we did?

When she talks sweetly
Does my voice echo louder?
Would you surrendered yourself completely
Every minute of every hour?

Can you see through all her lies
Within one single glance?
Feel your magic in her eyes
In the rhythm of a dance?

You wouldn’t, I suppose
Wonder if I feel the same;
Or that if she knows
You still taste like my name.

Will the tattoos of my kisses
Embedded in your skin
And in the blood still flowing
Still warm you from within?

When your arms’re nightly bounded
Will you feel like you belong?
Or are your ears still clouded
By my 4am song?

And will the violent waves
Of gentle waters arise
Above those resilient walls
Within your tender eyes?

Again and again
A day after another
Will time recycle
With every other?

When we’re no longer together
How long will it take to see
That your one true forever
Was only meant for me?

This time or another we’ll bother wonder
Why someone else is wishing you goodnight.

…

But my only question is:
Will that dark-clouded thunder
Cast upon a burning light—
To see us one more fight?

"I'm obsessed with making every moment of my life full of value and substance. I'm constantly fighting for miracle and adventure, and everyone around tells me to just enjoy life and stop fighting. Then I realized--I AM the adventure, and I AM the miracle. I'm fighting for myself and I will NEVER give up fighting for who I am. If the greatest adventure is life, and the purest miracle is this very moment, the what the hell am I even waiting for?"

Let's Play A Game

Me: Let’s play a game.
Him: I love it when you say that.
Me: It’s a psychology game I recently learned. Name your three favorite animals in order, and then three traits about each.
Him: Box turtles intrigue me because their lives and habitats are so distinctly different from other animals. They’re unique and still maintain a prehistoric air about them. Manatees interest me for the same reasons; they’re just so peaceful and seem to live with a grace that doesn’t match their physical appearance. Peregrine falcons are the epitome of predator in my eyes, but they can live in the middle of nowhere or in the bustle of NYC.
If I may, I’d like to hear your animals before you reveal the meaning of mine. See how accurate I am—about you and psychology.
Me: Taking my game and making it your own; how enticing. Mine are, respectively, the dragon for its majestic, magical, and all-powerful essence, the wolf’s sexy, fierce, and pack-loyal appeal, and finally, the hawk, for its divine, all-knowing, and free nature.
Him: I get the sense that every one of those adjectives applies to you.
Me: Your compliments are too gracious.
Him: I might see myself as a turtle and I definitely see the wolf in you. But in the end, we’re both birds.
Me: Does that mean we can fly away together? If so, I’ll race you.
Him: If we were birds, where would you want to fly to?
Me: We’d fly against the rotation of the earth, and challenge the laws of time.
Him: That might be the most attractive thing anyone’s ever said to me. I would be perfectly content to spend my life as avian time traveler. Join me?
Me: Don’t have to ask; just glance over beside you and smile back.
Him: Hillary, I am completely transfixed by you.
Me: If I ever fell behind, would you wait for me?
Him: Birds aren’t meant to wait, but some do fly in groups. As a hawk though, perhaps you’re meant to never look back. As for me, an endless journey with you is exactly the kind of trip I would enjoy most.
This was a conversation I had with a stranger many years ago. We never spoke after that.

The Artist's Reward

TO HEMINGWAY AND KIERKEGAARD


The best parts of a book, they say
Are the wrecks of an author’s life
The endless sighs and cries
Mistaken as a prize.

The Artist’s Reward, they call it.
An art I’ll recreate
Their sighs and cries together
I here hallucinate.

“I love you just the way you are,”
Claims the eye of an archive
Snooping for endless logic
Too precious to survive.

To retrieve a recollection.
Passed in end a void
Draws on the eye too blind
By sensations overjoyed.

The checklist delivered at birth
A love completed in theory
I do, but not enough to
Sacrifice vision for memory.

“I love who I’ve become with you”
Cries deep and fervently
The intensity of a newly felt love
To transform a moment’s eternity.

But the seduction of the highest height
Engraves a false forever
To secure against the ruins of time
With a thread of artless pleasure.

If the seduction of aesthetics
Dare snare our love confined
I pledge to cause the strength
to leave our present behind.

“We shall chat for all eternity,”
Suggests the awakened artist.
“With our love as the subject
and you as the object.”

And so it begins
The tragedy of an artist’s soul
Because a story that doesn’t end
Cannot be a story told.

But if this is the story
I’m destined to create
Let not my beloved surrender
to this awry art called fate.

“I love you for who you could be.
for what we will become,”
Transfigures the universal
A fantasy rich as none.

A reality in construction
Lives only in the mind.
As reality is its destruction
And ends this love with time.

And if we dare hold forever
to be truer than the now
Then each moment wasted
Stands truer than our vow.

The Artist's Reward is simply
our faith in Eternity.
Synthesis of the temporal and eternal
With freedom and necessity.
Combined with the infinite and the finite
I found in your company.
Two artists and one masterpiece
Stands our humanity against destiny.

The best parts of a book
Are the gems of an author’s life
Sighs and cries I now realize
Are sweet, sweet tunes disguised.

"I forget what the weather was like that day; probably cloudy with a chance of emotion. All I remember is that it was windy. It was the type of wind that would blow your words in the opposite direction so they would remain eternally wandering in search of lips that would never part."

"The best moments in reading are when you come across your own suppressed emptiness. You stand face to face with a character in your book, a person you never met, someone even who is long dead--and you finally realize that the book is not what you've been reading."