My Spirituality

The man is truly an artist at all levels.

claytoncubitt:

It overflows the control of emotions. It overwhelms tidy categories. 

It’s the ozone smell of the desert after a summer rainstorm, or the damp magnolia fertility in the air of a New Orleans night. It’s old Puerto Rican men playing dominoes on the sidewalk in Brooklyn, spilled out of their apartments, our public space blended with their private, their women dancing to boombox salsa, their children running for ices, far off police sirens singing chorus. 

It’s the atoms in my blood and heart and brain. Atoms that have existed since the dawn of time, and will continue until it never ends. Atoms that have been in the heart of stars, and traveled in comets, and lay in the cold grey dust of the moon. Atoms that have fed great sequoias, and the earthworms underneath them. Atoms that have been breathed by kings and paupers, philosophers and madmen. Atoms that I’m carrying right now, on brief loan, my contribution to their life, and theirs to mine. Pure eternal energy, great and small. It’s being old when young, and young when old, knowing I will die soon, but I’ll never really die. 

It’s the laughter of my girl in love, her scent, the curve of her hips as she sways with me, the taste of her sweat and mine, and the skip of my heartbeat and tear in my eye as I look to her when we fuck, or make love, or both. It’s her little pile of shoes on the bedroom floor, or the way she will eat a whole bag of chips, but never that last one, because that would be too much, so she leaves it in the bag, and leaves the bag in the cupboard. 

It’s the chill down my spine when I understand something for the first time. It’s an altered perception. It’s the pride of creating something beautiful, or making something beautiful from something ugly. It’s the deepest mystery, dark and long, and the trying to lift a light to see deeper into it. To follow it wherever it might lead. And to be afraid of where it might lead, yet still follow it. 

It’s not having the words to describe it, really, but knowing I don’t need to look in an old book for the answers.