INTANGIBILITY: SELF LOVE
The heart is a gate.
Interiority disperses us, makes us thin and nothing like threads of wind. We expand and spill inward, into a vast space of nothingness. We become like a silhouette, no longer a solid thing to be held, but to remain always unknowable. This inner world metabolizes lived experience, mysteries become like sunlight, illuminating the path where our intuition seeks to drift toward. Our intuition is the signal of our spirit, calling to be found, held, and loved. But we remain at this deepest existence, fundamentally intangible.
From that nothingness we learn to embody our spirit, it seeks to materialize through us. It wants to be seen, but most of all it wants to see itself. It wants to peer into its own eyes and to shake its own hands, it wants to hold itself. But we can't meet ourselves the way we meet the world. The vessel that experiences things can't fully experience itself.
Then the inner world becomes like an unfolding romance. It idealizes impossible things, to give shape to what's always shapeless, to provide a reality where nothingness can be experienced. Our body itself becomes an atmosphere for what it contains. We become an aura solidified, reverberating our intuitions like a crystallization of dreams and feelings. In that way our interiority becomes reality, when it overlaps our body and our spirit emerges to manifest things outside of us, visible.
That emergence occurs through a gate: the heart. Our spirit knows to be seen is to be held and loved, and it seeks even just a reflection. So when our heart finds the shape of something meaningful, we open ourselves. The heart beats faster to call to us, begging us to hold the gate open. What pours out is a gust, the overlap that envelops us in our interiority.
Though just as we're like wind, things that can't be held insist on fleeing. Our heart can never stay open long enough, and our spirit only glimpses itself in brief thresholds. As we are, moments of ourselves ebb and flow, in waves like currents of a nebulous mystery. We remain intangible, a shape of something unknown, to always seek the touch of a ghost.
GATES OF FORTUNE
Fate is a passage through a series of gates, of hidden structures. Life meets us through these partial openings, things unfold in thresholds. In these small mysteries, truth and meaning are encountered, to give shape to what fate obscures.
🜂 ( fire )
Alight on the plain of a shaded place,
To be seen is to be loved.
🜂 ( fire )
Dreams materialize, boundaries thin,
Spirit will be seen, the body is an aura.
🜂 ( fire )
Outlines burning, shadows and afterglow,
The heart holds the shape of things.
🜂 ( fire )
Sunrise, radiance waking,
Spirit emerge: what wants to be inevitable?
🜃 (earth)
Light with dust, residue of what filled the room,
Home is what holds the moment.
🜃 (earth)
Where called to tread, all paths return inward,
Spirit will make shape of the body.
🜃 (earth)
In tides of grass, rippling in currents like breath,
The body dissolves with things.
🜃 (earth)
Open expanse, earth unveiling,
Spirit heal: what wants to be soothed?
🜁 (air)
The shape of a home, warm air fleeting,
Like sunlight draped on a thread of wind.
🜁 (air)
Time abides in the wind, life becomes the moment,
Spirit contains what can't be held.
🜁 (air)
Mysteries touched but only waded,
Luminous, moonlight on the wind of night.
🜁 (air)
Sky unbound, airs cascading,
Spirit disperse: what wants to be let go of?
🜄 (water)
Loose in the night with things floating, like gossamer,
Among all the dreams of crickets and moths.
🜄 (water)
Hearts glow in the depths of murky things,
Romance is a dark ocean, more vast than sunlight.
🜄 (water)
Eyes to carry moonlight, casting into the night,
To envelop what needs to be held.
🜄 (water)
Oceans, secluded abyss,
Spirit submerge: what wants to be remembered?