internal illumination
-But I want to be illuminated from the inside out.
said 6 year old me.
-Eat your spinach
said my great-grandmother who was the most illuminated woman I had ever met, who prayed an entire rosary every night till she died. She smelled of lilacs.
(Then I learned about death, which is also illuminated. Death is a bird constantly spying on its victim. When we turn to see it, it flees. It is a raven sitting above a door, a vulture circling its prey. I don't know about you but my death is a daft robin with a crooked beak after years of constantly slamming its face into my bedroom window. It also has a sense of humor, just like life.)
The only other woman I ever met who was illuminated like her was a priestess who also smelled of lilacs. I saw her through my best friends eyes, sitting in an auditorium 500 miles away, bursting into tears as the woman held me, held everyone in the room so tight that I couldn't tell where I ended and she began. And I smelled of lilacs for a week afterwards, and from then on I knew that it was possible to see the world through others eyes because the only difference between them and me was a name.
And so I want to see the world through its mothers eyes, to rejoice in every small victory, marvel at every sunrise and sunset, proudly smell the blossoms of spring and happily welcome the snow of winter. I want to cry at every defeat, to kiss all the scars, to swoop in and rescue it from the brink of disaster, to brush its hair out of its face and wipe away its tears, to make it all better.
I want to be illuminated from the inside out so i may feel like it was all worthwhile. Every pain, every morning of wishing for an eternity of dreams instead of reality, every breath and step an individual miracle. We are constantly on the brink of disaster and yet somehow we still continue, blissfully oblivious to the proximity of our own demise.
I want to be able to look into your eyes and say with the upmost conviction and all the love a woman can possibly bestow upon another, that you are a miracle too. You are, perhaps the best miracle of all.
said 6 year old me.
-Eat your spinach
said my great-grandmother who was the most illuminated woman I had ever met, who prayed an entire rosary every night till she died. She smelled of lilacs.
(Then I learned about death, which is also illuminated. Death is a bird constantly spying on its victim. When we turn to see it, it flees. It is a raven sitting above a door, a vulture circling its prey. I don't know about you but my death is a daft robin with a crooked beak after years of constantly slamming its face into my bedroom window. It also has a sense of humor, just like life.)
The only other woman I ever met who was illuminated like her was a priestess who also smelled of lilacs. I saw her through my best friends eyes, sitting in an auditorium 500 miles away, bursting into tears as the woman held me, held everyone in the room so tight that I couldn't tell where I ended and she began. And I smelled of lilacs for a week afterwards, and from then on I knew that it was possible to see the world through others eyes because the only difference between them and me was a name.
And so I want to see the world through its mothers eyes, to rejoice in every small victory, marvel at every sunrise and sunset, proudly smell the blossoms of spring and happily welcome the snow of winter. I want to cry at every defeat, to kiss all the scars, to swoop in and rescue it from the brink of disaster, to brush its hair out of its face and wipe away its tears, to make it all better.
I want to be illuminated from the inside out so i may feel like it was all worthwhile. Every pain, every morning of wishing for an eternity of dreams instead of reality, every breath and step an individual miracle. We are constantly on the brink of disaster and yet somehow we still continue, blissfully oblivious to the proximity of our own demise.
I want to be able to look into your eyes and say with the upmost conviction and all the love a woman can possibly bestow upon another, that you are a miracle too. You are, perhaps the best miracle of all.
posted by Jessica @ 1:39 PM
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