Featuring music from the beautiful heart of Alicia Campbell.
She runs, Toward or away is unclear, Head and heart before, feet rushing after. She drops beside her The armor she has worn thus far, Not in combat, but out of duty. She is determined, Eyes on the shoreline, When she is caught by a tree. The Tree wraps their branches around her torso, And pulls her in close. Held, the girl gives up her ambition, And wraps her arms around the Tree’s trunk. In the stillness, she now realizes, She would genuinely like to cry. Not delicately, but Actually, openly, fully Heave the kind of cry that stops your breath and scrunches up your face, That squeezes your heart Until you need to exhale again. Inhale, exhale, squeeze. The Tree asks her, “My dear, what do you feel?” Inhale, exhale, squeeze. Inhale… “…I miss tenderness…” exhale, squeeze. She’d like to say more, she’d like to know more herself, But there isn’t the space. “That is ok,” says the Tree knowingly, “You don’t have to know. Just touch near what you mean.” She tries. She searches herself. What do I mean? Tenderness – That shade of love that doesn’t require striving, That doesn’t ask for proof, Nor is it bold in its own demonstration of love, But is soft, complete, and present. This is what she cannot get out between the fits of Inhale, exhale, squeeze. Inhale, exhale, squeeze. The Tree, having seen souls at this edge before, Knows what the girl wants cannot be fought for, Won or lost. It can only be received. So the Tree says, “The compression you sense shows where you are afraid to feel, Maybe even where you are afraid to hope, Where you have guarded yourself. It is the final piece of armor, This lock, this breastplate, this squeeze, this attempt to conceal your heart. And that is ok. That is just fine. That is beautiful.” Sometimes, these souls are not ready to receive quite yet. Instead the Tree advises this: “Go to the water. Lie next to it and listen. You don’t need to do anything but listen. You understand? Listening is one way to experience water without getting wet.” She nods. Then the Tree unwraps her limbs, Steadies the girl upright, And watches her methodically climb down the small cliff edge. She lands her bare feet on the sand. Gingerly lays herself down, And listens. The water gently soothes the shore, In a steady cadenced wash. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. She’s listened so long she thinks herself asleep when She hears the sound: a humming. She glances down at her chest and through the locked keyhole Comes this song from her tender heart. It sings in rhythm with the water And at once she sees the pity of the whole picture: Her tender core humming locked behind her guarded chest. She softens as she understands This too is an experience of heart. So this is how she listens, Matching her breathing to the water, The water to her heart’s singing, The singing to her breath. She learns to hum along.
Thank you to my dear friend Alicia Campbell for sharing your music.
More of Alicia’s music can be found at www.aliciakcampbell.com/work/music.
This too is an experience of heart.