Your life is art.

Your sex is art.

Your relationships are art.

Sometimes it gets all fucked up.

And then something incredible emerges.

That’s how art works.

Can you

Let go a little?

Close your eyes a moment.

And let the chaos unfurl.

Around your centre.

Something new wants to be uncovered.

What if letting go of control was the smart thing to do.

What if that was the way forward.

What if other people’s emotions where their own problem.

And you can let go.

And let the next art piece uncover itself.

What if your job was to lean back in awe?

Of the sheer magnitude of it all.

And remember that it is also a gift to be powerless.

We try

and we do

all this doing

To get here and

accomplish that.

 

When we forget the wisdom of the wild mess. Of the human right and brilliance of letting go and heading in.

We become deeply tired.

For so long.

That we can’t even remember where we are going. Lost in the scatter off.

The pieces. Too sticky. Refusing to submit to the magnitude.

So we create chaos.

Bounce around.

Ricochet off.

 

Remember. To come back. You don’t have to try harder. That will pull you out.

 

Instead. Another option.

Close your eyes. Let go.

 

Surrender to the centrifugal force. It will emerge into something good.

Surrender until inspired direction directs. But please. Sweet, tired one. Put down force. Put down effort.

I’m tired just feeling the weight of your heart.

The effort of control making you unrecognizable.

I long to see your softness. The wild softness in you. Seeking comfort and care.

And losing control. Totally fucking letting go.

 

Letting yourself be pulled in. Back to yourself.

For as long as you need.

To emerge. Wanting.

 

But for now, weary one.

You can’t fake wanting.

Rest. Endurance is over.

You want nurturance.

 

It keeps showing up on a silver platter.

And you push it away.

Addicted to pushing.

Can you sit down and enjoy what’s being served?

You asked for it.

Receive it.

Rest. It’s here.

Take it.

Photos by Ashley Klassen.