A Primal Roar

Tiger in Water.jpg

Awe, shit.

Shiiiiiiii....t. I wanted to sit down and answer the question, "what is silent awe?" today. I did. But something else screams inside me. Something else demands my attention, grabbing my cheeks and eating me in the alchemical act of freeing my limited understanding. It's a bit messy. I apologize. (No I don't.) I’m unfurling a new beginning, a new awareness of myself, and, like any newborn, silence is not an option.

See there’s a raging party of reclamation and celebration going on. Raging. Outrageous. Exclamation point times infinity. Both and in-between. A bold announcement of here-ness, a full war-cry, a demanding, that will not be smothered today.

Today is not silent. I have spent, and will spend again, time and space in deepest reverence, in the holy embrace, in the delicate quiver of a dawning understanding, in a sacred whisper of a knowing tickling the tender layers of my awakening into my own benevolent awareness.

But today, silent awe creates merely the backdrop, the ever-present canvas, for the messy, loud, irreverent, mischievous, bitchy, fierce, mercurial, courageous, creative, emboldened mistress-piece within. Bursting forward again, freed and unhindered by the well-worn patterns I mistakenly thought were my job to keep animating, like a factory worker tightening a screw. Screwing me into the confines of consolation, a suppression, a distraction, a desperation so powerful, it's blowing up around me, in me, outside me, by me, for me, and with me...

So now, I am centering differently, and my need to celebrate with full-body expression, brandishing my sounds and movements across the awe-canvas of awareness, demands attention today. More attention than turning towards the canvas to sit and look in wonder at the potency of it’s still blankness, wondering how I can describe it, or whether I might be allowed to paint on it before my hand is slapped away again and I'm told to get back to the task of screwing tight those old, worn-out patterns again.

Today, silent awe is a fucking primal ROAR, smearing her colors and painting the sky with the marrow of my bones, claiming my place, here and now, as the Fierce, Fiery, Radiant, Beaming, Playful, Sportive, Charming I Am.

Elise LorimerComment