October
Breathing happens through the nose and mouth. Oxygen particles filter in, and as the air becomes humid, it warms. Then it moves to the trachea, finding its transition into each lung. There are more details in this process, all the way until the air exits again, through the nose or mouth. I knew my body kept doing this because I was still alive, but all the constructions of my mind—building frameworks to understand what happens—left no room for distractions, not even for feeling my own breath.
Naked, in the different beds we shared, I felt that, after a long time, I could finally sense the full process of my breathing because your human form was so close to mine. I am still learning to hold my breath for myself.
Throwing oneself into the world, driven solely by the raw emotion of experiencing the life that sustains it, is the most terrifying and extraordinary thing at the same time. I try to find a balance to explain it, but it feels as if I’m seeing myself through another human mirror, one identical to my own form, and through these two forms, there’s an entire universe passing through. I can find a space to observe it, even from a distant direction.
In October, I turned 26, and the awareness that observes my existence began noticing the changes in my body and the need to provide it with more informed care. During those days, I was in motion, organizing a gathering to celebrate. I heard the birthday song for me in two languages, and it felt surreal. My guests and I shivered in the cold as we waited for the elevator, but the joy of seeing one another and sharing the moment burned like a lit candle.
Yes, the world is our home, but why do we feel like strangers in places where we weren’t born? Familiarity gives us a sense of belonging, but it feels unsettling when we stay in the same patterns for too long. It’s like staring at a photograph until the forms lose their meaning, and everything that moved us the first time vanishes. Our nature is ever-changing, adaptable. Perhaps our bodies have found a form that, in reproducing itself, remains acceptable and human. But our minds are in constant evolution, and everything that happens within them demands to be heard, observed, materialized, understood. Yet somehow, we manage to keep looking like mere humans on the outside, despite all the vastness happening within.
I’ve been encountering many human faces over the past two years, faces of different shapes, languages, and accents. One of those faces I saw for the first time in January 2023. His form, his gaze towards my existence, held me and observed me. He spent a month in Denver and then moved to Chicago. I was focused on the lens of what was unfolding in my life. Communicating with him felt difficult for me; I was trying to breathe and absorb what I was and wanted to make happen. It feels overwhelming to give attention and energy to what you cannot control. I finally replied to his messages, telling him that my 26th birthday was in two days. He booked a flight, and on the morning of my birthday, he stood at my door holding a cake in his hands, singing “Happy Birthday” with the most beautiful candles I’d ever seen. That morning, I wondered: Are you my birthday angel? Because what you are doing now is beautiful.
We had several conversations in those days, one in particular on the morning of my birthday when we went for a walk with coffee in hand. He spoke to me about the amounts of money he was making and the intense focus it required to build the life he wanted. He had bought tickets to Dubai and Indonesia. He told me about an apartment he had rented for several months on a spiritual island. He said he could imagine me on the beach, in the natural flow of my tropical essence, while he would be at his computer watching numbers shift, calculating market predictions, winning and losing money at the same time—like a gambler who knows what he’s doing. I looked into his eyes and asked if his invitation was romantic. He said yes, that his intentions with me were romantic, and that he had waited all this time to tell me, hoping I would want to dive into a relationship with him. I had to meet his gaze and tell him my feelings for him were friendly, that I couldn’t force myself to feel something that didn’t even feel fertile enough to grow.
The sunset lit up my room’s window and the city with vivid colors. I saw in his eyes a deep respect for my feelings, but also a profound disappointment sinking inward. I watched him leave for the airport, smiled, closed the door, and carried on with my life.
October brings winds that turn autumn leaves into butterflies. From a certain distance, those leaves seem to flutter, searching for a direction where they can find balance in their flight to reach the places they long to experience. There are days when life feels as though nothing is truly happening. It’s important to remember that the actions you take make life occur, but it’s equally vital to create spaces where you can simply breathe, transition, and recognize that in those moments, you have everything you need to keep going.
No one truly stays with you to explain, word by word, what all this means from the moment you are born and as life unfolds. But there is always a voice we seem to hear. As I experience, learn, and process everything shaping my concepts, I feel that voice closer. Though my care for my honesty and myself is not yet perfect, the more natural I remain, the closer I can hear that voice. No matter where I am now or where I want to go tomorrow, I know that as long as I can hear and trust that voice, I am truly living.
And when my mind loses its organization to make space for new ideas, even when it vomits inside itself information from the past, present, and future, throwing it all at once and desperately trying to sort it out to keep moving forward, I let it express itself. I can observe it, and sometimes I want to scream as all those emotions run wild and mix with one another, with no middle ground to allow them to settle. I manage to intervene and return, reaching the point where I can see the leak that’s causing all of it. Then, I have to go over every detail, every conversation, every place, every hour, seconds, milliseconds, people—to find the exact moment I lost my center. My memory takes countless photographs through my eyes, until I find the root and try to explain this new introduction that is seeking its own space for understanding.
But as I reconnected with reality, until I could breathe it and calm myself, I called you at midnight in America, while the sun was rising in Europe. Your sleepy, groggy voice answered; you woke up to lull me sweetly and tell me everything would be okay. With your words, I managed to find peace and return to sleep. How could I deny what true love is when I’ve experienced it in abundance? Even after so much time apart, you’re on the other side of the world, soothing me. You say over the phone, “Imagine I’m there, holding you tight until you fall asleep.” Your spiritual presence travels to me with the energy of love, and I finally sleep.
No matter how much emotional or financial independence I achieve in the future, I know that my silhouette and humanity, which sustain the woman I am, will someday need to surrender to the completeness of a man in his human form, breathing through me, and I through him. Isn’t that beautiful?
