Life can be simplified down to a series of
patterns like the shapes and spirals of sacred geometry
and rhythms like the blooms of Tulips and Gazanias, according to the time of day
and cycles of both the lunar and the solar
and waves like those of the ocean and epidemics.
One of the motions I’ve really noticed in particular recently is the
Contract
And the
E X P A N D
And the,
Contract
And the,
E X P A N D
Expansion is
As when a supernova explodes, colours and heat dance beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Each particle and photon the first of its kind and never before known, each expansion is intricately unique.
Like a glorious morning stretch, fingers spread and legs pushed, a satisfying relief of an entire day ahead comes to be.
Like when a seed first sprouts, infinite potential and possibilities suddenly exist in endless fertile plains, able to go wherever their roots can take them.
As the stomach gets bigger and bloated to welcome more, expansion is fulfilling, almost to the point it is unbearable.
Almost.
However, the movement of life will do almost anything but plateau, so when the next levels of expansion are not yet ready to be experienced, the ever-sprinting pendulum of fate sinks into contraction.
As an old, geriatric star implodes into fickle fragments of Nebula,
the once strong and abundant expansion becomes weak and separated fragments.
Like the squeezing into the fetal position as one falls asleep on a cold winter night, isolation and distance become safe.
Like when a tired oak gives into gravity, the old ways die and die forever.
As the anus pushes out the last of what is left of what was only a delicious meal hours ago, what no longer serves the self, what is leftover and toxic and entirely redundant is
flushed away.
But, the particles of space dust, after great rest and calibration, muster together strength and unite once more to form globules and protostars.
Summer again comes and morning stretches become much more favourable than nightly cuddles
The dead tree trunk gives life to new and flourishing ecosystems and gracefully gives opportunity to a new seedling to take its place.
The gut now has space for new fuel and the palette new experience.
Such is the inescapable harmony of the universe. Humans too are a part of this beat, and so too our delicate minds and even more fragile relationships.
The thought of people, moments and time so passively drifting away makes me genuinely nauseous, simply because it is so natural.
Durability is a word often used to decide which type of paint coat one should select, but contractions also test the very same.
In the general upheaval and hub bub in the average nothingness of human life, resilience is tested.
Is it as flexible as the bamboo that bends or as fickle as the oak that resists? Does the subject float in fluidity, muscles relaxed and the bathing of the back in sunshine or scrunch into a ball and sink, forgotten in the current as the waves and kelp gradually chip away at its flesh and fallen lungs?
I trust the rhythm of life. Completely and fully.
The fruits of expansion are messy and juicy and enlighteningly sweet,
But the fasting of contraction brings gratitude and knowledge that are slimming and grounding.
We were born from contractions and expansions, as a sacred womb gave us way.
Human ichor is pumped through our divine vessel as the tireless heart continuously contracts and expands.
And as Algor Mortis allows us to expand a final time before we eternally contract back into the dirt from which we came,
I remember that it is okay when the grand and the beautiful suddenly becomes far away and insignificant.
And when besties become acquaintances and acquaintances become besties,
And when hypothetical future husbands become scum we avoid in hallways and random strangers become hypothetical future husbands,
When wanting to strangle my mother one day becomes never wanting to let go of her hug the next,
When hate turns to love and love to hate,
anger to passion and passion to idiocy,
The shattering of rose-coloured lenses and then to their subsequent rebuilding
Appreciation to annoyance and right back to appreciation
This constant commotion is more than okay,
It is perfect!
For this is the eternal rhythm of the
Cosmos’ song.
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