My Desires Scare Me.

My desires scare me. They feel so unruly. Like blackberry vines snaking underneath foundations and garden boxes, upending what is designed to be kept tidy and secure.

If I sit with them for more than a few minutes I become uncomfortable and want to look away.

How can these desires be coming from within me? There is shame and selfishness attached to every stem, the very thought of them makes me shudder. Their tendrils lace up and around what I’ve worked so hard to maintain and control.

My desires seem to bask in their ability to disrupt. They twist into the places of my heart I try to keep well-tended and protected. It’s painful when they spread out, unconcerned with decency or practicality.

Desires don’t need an invitation. They crop up like weeds from the hard ground of our propriety and put-togetherness. They demand us to reconsider our boundaries, expand past our pristine appearances, and welcome the wild nature of our starry-eyed selves.

As much as I’m scared I’m also intrigued by their otherworldliness.

I can spend an entire 30 minutes swimming back and forth in the local pool playing out a particular hush-hush desire in my head. Until suddenly, I’m 20 years down the road…in a radically different life.

I trace my finger back to where it all began and discover the origin- giving the middle finger to all the pieces that masquerade as unchangeable requirements, laws I established to keep myself in line.

I squint into the horizon, trying to decipher the edges of this fictional woman who has followed her longings. Who is she? Only then do I begin to make out a faint figment of the familiar woman I know so well.

I am still there, woven into the wants and wishes of my seemingly wayward self.

I haven’t disappeared as once feared.

I’m not trampled by regrets.

I haven’t shrunk back into certainty.

The woman I greet under the cool waters of my morning swim is dripping with wisdom, the kind that comes from night-time wanderings and endless curiosity to seek out the unknown.

She is finding her way by following the path of ease and delight, surrendering to the weightlessness of her being. The sheer magnificence of a body unhindered by the pressures of a world governed by manmade rules, so desperate to minimize her muchness and tamp down her desires for more.

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