Sunday night, silent shivers and the shadows of my candles dancing across my walls. They're dancing to Vivaldi, recomposed by Richter, the optimistic tones of the spring of his Four Seasons. I remember a time when my candles were the only things that were dancing in my life. Now, I dance to every heartbeat. And I feel the beating more than I ever have, the way a memory or thought can awaken my senses, make me feel happy, afraid, angry, liberated. My heart beats out of my chest and I hold on to it as it gives me the wings I always searched for. And it's scary somtimes, how much I feel everything around me, but I always remind myself of that time when I felt nothing at all.
That most beautiful sunset that needed no filters, pink, orange and glowing in the cold autumn night. It pulled me out of my room like a flame, and I threw myself into it. It was like the sky was burning. I sat there and watched it burn and realized that the world was burning with it. It was a Baudelaire poem, it was the taste of red wine, it was the vibrations of a cello, and it set me free.
In order for a flower to grow you need both sunshine and rain. And sometimes even if that flower has grown tall and beautiful, you need to burn it to the ground. Nothing can be left standing, not even the slightest shadow of what once was. Sometimes you need to start fresh in order to continue growing. A weak base won't keep anything up, no matter how hard you try. And burning it all might hurt, but eventually it will set you free.
The past few months I've burned a lot to the ground. I came home from a trip that set me free, that for the first time in years gave me the opportunity for me to be myself in my most pure form - an opportunity which I took advantage of - only to be thrown straight into the ground the moment my feet touched Norwegian soil.
I'd spread my wings fearlessly, but nothing could prepare me for the fall, not even the parachute I had stored underneath my winter coat.
Many of my troubles were, in retrospect, insignificant, tiny creations of the mind that I shouldn't have cared about as much as I did. I got caught up in the destructive parts of my self, the voice in my head that kept on complaining, and, like I've done so many times before, I dug myself a hole and left the ladder at the surface. In a way I suppose it might be my consciousness wanting me to get stronger - I'd just forgotten how it was in Los Angeles, where I got stronger not by throwing myself into a hole, but realizing I didn't need to hide in a hole anymore.
Regardless, I ended up in a hole that was flooded by my own restless emotions, but I didn't worry - eventually I'd manage to climb up from that hole, like I always do. Then someone close to me passed away, and everything changed. My emotions all froze and the only thing that kept on moving were my tears that kept on running. And they filled the hole up, ran and ran for days, and before I knew it I was floating. I lay there, on top of my grief, and watched the sky above me. The gentle waves of solitude and mourning were a comfort as much as they were an ache, especially after those days of rapid currents and waves of despair and guilt that nearly drowned me.
It was all so crystal clear, when I lay there, after fighting those most ferocious waves, and that terrified me. I was closer to getting out of my hole now, but I didn't want to leave it. I didn't know how to cope with anything anymore.
Then, as suddenly as I'd found myself floating, the water had dried up and I was back in the hole, like some mysterious force pulled the plug I'd long given up looking for. The bottom of the hole was cold and uncomfortable, and I realized that now was the time to get out of it. It demanded less of me than before - I had a new force to drive me now, a gratitude for the life I have and the life that's ahead of me.
Don't be afraid of breaking yourself down. Don't be afraid of taking a break from chasing your dream, to stop for a minute. There's no use in chasing that dream when you're not ready for the moment when you reach it.
In order to have a breakthrough you must first have a breakdown.
I break down on a monthly basis. I might wake up one day and realize that it's time to feel sorry for myself, just for a little bit. I let myself fall and I climb back up again, and when I do, everything is more clear than ever.
Imagine you're at a party celebrating something - at one point you realize you're getting drunk, and something tells you to keep on going, even if another part of you knows it's not a good idea. You get drunk, you let loose, and whether it's you, your body or somebody else that tells you it's time to sleep, you sleep. And when you wake up, chances are you'll feel like shit. But as soon as those moments of feeling like shit have passed, chances are you'll be seeing clearer than ever.
"I'm never drinking again"
Let's face it - you will. And so the cycle starts up again.
Breaking down is like drinking a bottle of whiskey and passing out. Then you wake up the next day and realize the potential you have without the whiskey.
You enjoy both getting to the high and getting out of the low.
No reason you shouldn't enjoy the same routine with your spirit, your thoughts, your mind. Break down, break through. The more you do it, the more resistant you'll become.
One day, that hungover will be a breeze (figuratively speaking, cause real hangovers only get worse the older you get).
Poison yourself with your worst guilty pleasures - self-pity, jealousy, anger, frustration, guilt - then let them all go and make room for peace and bliss.
Love the rollercoaster ride you're on that is life, love the ups and downs and different speeds, turns, loops and sudden stops.
Fall in love with others, fearlessly, and fall in love with yourself, always.
Tuesday morning, sunlight glitters and my shadow dances on the pavement. No music needed - I dance to my heartbeat now. I burned myself to the ground and arose as a phoenix. The ironic part is that as much as I enjoy life with a fresh pair of wings, I enjoyed the burning the most. I am the candle now, and I burn and dance through even the darkest nights.