Many times, I have wished I could stop the sun from setting. Sometimes, it was because I wanted a moment to last forever, despair setting in as a speck of bliss receded further and further into the past. Sometimes, it was because events inevitable as a sunset would unfold over the subsequent days, and I worried that I would be forgotten. Forgotten, my lost soul would wander the universe, looking for somewhere to place the energy that rushes just beneath my skin. I wanted fiercely to give my heart to a person, to house it in a concrete place, but I have realized it is better to give it in varying amounts to many people, channeling my pent up sacral energy into the abstract.
I have become obsessed with the sun and moon in my writing – subconsciously – but perhaps we are all similarly occupied with the objects in our physical world that bring on or signify change and cycles. I seek ways of describing my experience in a way that makes sense to all. People who point out over-used metaphor are perhaps missing the point. Everything in my life is art, and the symbols that are meaningful to me (and collectively) may change over time. I know this.
But why should I not be everything I am, with at least some measure of reckless abandon? Even knowing that change is inevitable as the movement of planets and our shifting sky?
I celebrate the times that my bliss vanished behind the clouds, for they have taught me to appreciate warmth to a degree that I never have before. They have taught me to savor love but hold it with gentle hands, leaving space between my fingers. They have taught me to be fully in my feeling without being attached to it or drawing my identity from it. At the same time, detachment is not shying from peace, contentment, and love because they may change forms or seem to disappear over time. To the contrary – it is embracing them along with the acceptance that some day, you may be called to let them go, for a time.
The body can be a canvas, just as the mind and heart can be. I lovingly assume responsibility for mine. I don’t search for meaning anymore – searching implies that something is missing – but sometimes it chooses me.
The rune on my wrist is called Sowilo. The sun. Holy fire. The passion that burns inside me. A flame that may seem to falter on occasion, but that ultimately cannot be vanquished. “…the sun sets; the moon sets; they are not gone.” (Rumi)
The impermanence of phases is folded into the permanence of strength that is faith-borne, a quiet knowing of purpose that never goes away despite external appearances. Its meaning is very deep, but this is the best way I know to describe it, for myself.