Breaking.

I'm not well. Because WE aren't well.

I’m finding myself without words lately – why I haven’t been writing as much. So much is churning within but I’m only managing to communicate bits of phrases, singular words.

Truth is, I don’t think words can fully convey what I’m feeling in witnessing this moment on Earth. Sounds maybe, but not language. Because nothing we are witnessing is rational or sane.

helpless.

the pain, like tidal waves throwing themselves repeatedly on jagged rocks, battering themselves over and over, praying for an ending.

i can’t do anything to change it.

just be here.

that is enough.

I feel buried, trapped underneath the emotional rubble.

I feel pieces of me, energetic limbs, blasted beyond repair, into shards that are unrecognizable.

Dissociation provides respite. Like turning the dial down to zero. A moment of numbed silence quenching a fatigue that has molded onto my body like a tarp made of liquid lead.

My physical body is here in the sanctuary of the mountains and pine forest.

But my energetic body is thousands of miles away, frantically searching for shelter from the relentless bombs and wanting desperately to shield the children. The waters of grief have frozen over.

My spirit body is straining, grasping at the higher dimensions. A gentle voice brings me back to re-member...

Remember, you chose to be here.

Remember, stay here.

Remember, being here is enough.

Remember, why.

Remember, be.

Remember, feel.

Remember, love.

Thaw.

Melt.

Flow.

I close my eyes and time travel to a favorite beach in Kauai. I’m standing in the shadow of the trees surrounding the beach. The waves roll in and out, slow and steady. A metronome keeping time to a song that I forgot we were all singing together.

Shiny curious heads lift up out of the water, blinking at me as they hover on the waves. Flat discs floating effortlessly on the surface, bobbing up and down as the waves roll.

I walk slowly into the water, lowering my body and releasing my feet when it’s deep enough to float. I face the horizon where sky meets ocean. I look around and notice that all my shelled kin are looking in the same direction.

We rise and fall with each wave as we face that distant horizon line together. An impossible destination to reach, but a North Star guiding our intention nonetheless.

I feel lighter, buoyant as I’m carried by the ocean, flanked by my honu friends.

Perhaps we were never meant to reach the destination.

Perhaps we’re just here to BE here. To be carried. Together. Riding each wave, up and down.

Witnessing and feeling our collective rise and fall. Being witnessed in return.

Perhaps that has been the point all along.

May the Palestinian people be liberated from their genocide.

May we be liberated through our presence and love for our Palestinian kin.

May we all be free.