Everything sings to me

I’m in the zone, powering through my mammoth workload with fierce joy. I’m currently hand sewing an art book about grieving unborn children.

I watched Mad Max 4 yesterday in 3D at the cinemas… I’m so broke but I think I’m going back to see it again. It was stunning. The cinematography, direction, visuals, and sound were superb… visual poetry with an impressive philosophy and psychology. I was enchanted. I felt something click in my head, one of my frameworks about life gently get the last piece needed. Something closed over and I exhaled with a sense of peace. The world makes sense. It’s not okay, it’s not all answered, I haven’t found the truth or understood every question, but a sense of total disconnection and bewilderment that has been with me all my life suddenly healed over.

I’m flying.

My midnight and my noonday are close enough to spark life between them. The sublime and the domestic burst into each other with abundance. I’ve bridged a gap between the internal and external.

It’s like I can run after spending my whole life dragging a ball and chain behind me. I feel so alive and so free. My mind is so clear. Everything sings to me, everything speaks to me. I turn the radio up loud and sing in the car when I’m driving. I can feel the touch on my skin when I think of my favourite scenes from Mad Max, but it’s not psychotic or deranged. The stars sing to me, my bones sing to me. The world is full of life and it makes sense to me. Everything speaks in its own language and I’m spinning with the whirl of stars, grasping life to me with passion. It’s not a mind puzzle solved in disconnection, it’s felt in the body, it’s experienced in the soul. I breathe and the world breathes into me, through me. I’m not disconnected any more, not set apart, not broken by the contradictions. I feel like I’ve swallowed the planet, my heart finally big enough.

There’s no glass. No railway tracks. No rules I can’t break, should I choose to. I am apart from it all, all the fences and the traps. I am a little bag of skin, sewn over dreams, painfully fragile, singing with life. I’ve drunk many bitter cups to taste this sweetness. I’ve loved and been broken by love. I’ve faced the things that hunted me in the night, made some peace with my ghosts.

My voice, my lovely anguished voice, she is transformed. She infuses with me something beautiful that is not voice, that is a language without words. The void is outside me, not within. The shadows are populated, my ignorance stretches before me like a vast unknown land full of terror and possibility. We are Sarah. I know my own name, I know who I am. I have seen through to the bones of life, I have seen the joke and I can’t help but laugh. Agony and beauty, spun together. The anguish is not gone. I am not safe. I am not safe and yet there is this freedom, this song in me. The world it screams and it sings and I can hear it all.

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