Sometimes, when there’s an unusual synergy between my heart and brain, words come out of me and I surprise myself.

I

What devotion is for me: when Isis searched for and gathered the 14 pieces of Osiris’ cut up body that Seth scattered over the Earth, and then—with the help of Nepthys, Thoth, and Anubis—performed a great act of magic to bring her husband back to life.

I think my fascination with this story explains why my love language is words of affirmation. What we speak of, how often we say them, how we say them—all are elements of spellcasting. The great act of magic is speaking life into our beloved.

II

How I feel sometimes: filled with stars and arching over the world.

III

I want to carefully remove my heart from my body. Wash it clean. Make it brand new. It housed many strangers who weren’t nice house guests.

IV

A hunch: the quality of my experience of other people depends on the quality of my perception. My admiration of someone’s essence might actually be a radar for an aspect of my self that I’m oblivious of or a compass guiding me to a new self that I’m desiring to meet.

V

I descended from a long line of sea and farm folks and the thought that the soul, after its release from the flesh, leaves a bit of itself in places where it has experienced love fills me with solace. That my ancestors never really left but only transformed: the land they tilled, now the shoulders I stand on; the ocean they scoured, new limbs to embrace me with.

VI

We’re usually asked what lights our fire but fire has the potential to ravage everything on its path when left untended. Instead of sparking up our desire to act, the fire consumes us to the point of feeling spent. So I think it’s also worth asking: how do you tend your fire?

VII

I'm still surprised at how love can just grow over the years. It’s as if everything succumbs to entropy except for love. Chaos is unable to hurl it into nothingness.