Saturday, February 6, 2016

To Be a Real Rabbit

I didn't like The Velveteen Rabbit much as a kid. I thought it was sad. But it's an interesting concept--the idea that love makes you real.

I work. He works. We work together, but are never really together. The "us" we created is something we miss. Who we used to be as individuals has faded into what we have become, and we miss them too.

Self lies in the shadows
a well read book, tattered around the edges
long since touched with broken hands
a tale etched into our bones
memorized by our souls
a small burning fire in the storm of cold
worn pages waiting patiently
long since read
but written permanently into our minds
like ink on the skin
a story
a memory
a feeling
a being
real.

We tend to live within the constructs we create, whatever version of reality we choose to believe or find ourselves living. This is considerably more difficult when there is pain. Cold. Love. Blood. Death. Birth. Because some things are beyond the box, beyond the construct, beyond the containment that we so carefully immerse ourselves in on a daily basis.

Maybe we make magic real.
Maybe magic makes us real.
Maybe love and pain and death and birth and cold are magic.
Maybe belief makes magic real.
Maybe, like the silly little velveteen rabbit, the belief that love makes us real is our true magic.

I have realized that I have no interest in a life without the magic of us.
In a life where the excess of mental anguish comes without the magic of real pain.
In a life where no one dares to be different or let others see that they bleed.

We lay together late at night
after he has sated his need
taken his fill
clawed at my soul
torn into my body like a starving wolf without a pack
after all is forgotten except for pain, blood falling slowly in the rain of tears, no longer ruled by fears, and what was far becomes once again near.
When once again all that we know to be true is us
in love and surrender to the tender brutality of his control.

Life isn't about bleeding, it's about what we bleed for.
It's not about the freezing cold in your bones, it's about taking one more step into the snow and surrendering to the storm.
It's about love that makes us real
pain that makes us feel
about dying after truly living.

Maybe it was his belief that the boy's love made him real which made that silly little velveteen rabbit real. Maybe it really was the boy's love which made him real.
In the end, does it actually matter? After all, that silly tattered little velveteen rabbit was real in his own story.


10 comments:

  1. WOW..I have to digest and come back and read again, but a marvelous post!
    hugs abby

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    Replies
    1. abby,
      glad you liked it. Thank you!

      Delete
  2. As always lil, your words resonate deep into my core.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. sunnygirl,
      It's nice to know that my words, though infrequent these days, still have that effect somewhere.

      Delete
  3. I've been thinking about this (about magic) and I'm inclined to think that it's everywhere, in everything, even a rabbit made of fabric and stuffing, we just have to open our eyes wide enough to see it.

    (Well, okay, maybe magic isn't everywhere...the stuffed animals I'm about to throw out don't have magic. Lol)



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    Replies
    1. Misty,
      Dunno how I missed you the first time around!

      I think that you are right. It's just easy to forget sometimes, especially when one finds themselves in an environment that doesn't seem to have much magic to offer...

      Delete
  4. This is lovely but sorrowful, which I always found "The Velveteen Rabbit" to be as well. The last four years of my life were spent being someone who missed the someone I used to be. Finally, as if magic actually has come into my life, I am rediscovering myself, writing, my blog, connecting with others who write and explore and quest to find and be themselves. I love how you ended this post. I'm only just learning that believing that I'm real might be the only thing that can make me truly real and alive.

    I've added you to my blogroll. I'm on a mission of discovery, albeit a bit late to many of the blogs now out there, such as yours.

    Best, Abby Williams

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. abby,
      welcome to my crazy corner.
      Rediscovery feels good, doesn't it?

      Thanks for stopping by!

      Delete

Play nice.