When I allowed the water to settle, I don’t touch it or question the how or why. I don’t rock it, stir it or move it. I don’t consider it or try to explain it. I waited patiently to see what will float to the surface. Cautiously I walked over after a few days to see what I could see and there it was floating in all its beauty and innocency, as calm as dawn, yet sure and confident in its honesty and authenticity, unfettered and free, declaring with the simplicity and openness of a child ‘I love You’ yet not a word was spoken. Unforced love emerging from deepest part of the soul, unapologetic in its appearance and timing, breaking into existence like a new born child, demanding it’s rights to existence just like any other.
Yet the heavy hands of culture, religion, structure, etiquette, tradition and norm grab it in its infancy, declaring how it should be, but most importantly whether it should be. In its vulnerable and fragile state, it is taken to the ‘inspection room’ where it was subjected to the most rigorous and inhumane inspection, some allowed to survive, some destroyed there and then.
The ones allowed to survive were placed back on the waters with a manual on how to love. I came back a few days again to check how the float was going, the formation had been broken, the water troubled, the manual was a disservice, love must just be allowed to be.
I love you!
Beautiful Ivory 