Calling

I search for the marvellous 

Like a marionette whose strings are pulled in opposite directions – dancing between two worlds 

belonging neither here nor there.

 

I want to belong here: to sink my feet into earth and ground myself with vulnerability; 

I want to feel it all deeply – to awaken to the curiosity of early mornings, 

to become a gift of life to another 

skin to skin, softly spoken; 

to allow loss and the infinite possibility in grief to move me, 

staying present

always

present.

 

And yet I earn for more.

I am pulled yet again upwards

by the moon, knotting herself tightly into my hair, promising me the miraculous.

 

I tried to mould myself into the ordinary; diffuse into the unremarkable. 

To feel less, see less, contain myself into a neat square box

understandable and plain.

 

But stagnancy makes me restless. The visible leaves me hungry.

More, more. There is more. 

Like the song of mermaids bewitching the lost sailors, 

I am enchanted by the invisible, 

by that which goes beyond the humdrum of our daily existence. 

On a quiet day I can hear them calling.

I must be a mermaid, I have no fear of depth and a great fear of shallow living.

Anais Nin.