I have been intimately sifting through
my internal landscape,
tracing the mappings of my
inner workings. I am,
a voyeur of my own
mental movement. I am
looking for an answer before
fully formulating the question. In this
game of catch and release, I am
well aware that rampaging through
an otherwise unbothered corner
of my psyche is
why fix something if it’s not broken,
chase what doesn’t need to be seen?
I over-engineer what my soul needs.
The moon hovers at the edge
of the horizon, and
some kind of a revolution is
happening inside of me. I reach
for the new spark,
then with conviction. Like a
bunched up note un-wrinkling open
in a puddle of water, I am
coming to the surface. The
more I learn about myself the
more I get overwhelmed by the
vastness that is me. The narrator
inside me is practicing to juggle
all of me: I am both
the warrior and the peacemaker
of my inner battles.
On my living room sofa, I watch the sunset
out of one window, then the moon light
out of the other. I remind
myself to simply feel
instead of imprison myself within
the need to understand.
April 14, 2018. Playa Bejuco, Guanacaste, Costa Rica.
It’s approximately 6:20am and my eyes have just peeled themselves open. A rare natural awakening – no alarm, no agenda. Everything in this place bounces with sunlight, even unfamiliar, winding dirt roads stitched together by green trees, laced with pink and yellow flowers. In the morning light, wild horses glide through the jungle under wide, lush leaves that shimmer in the breeze – unbothered, unaware of the human eye following their movement. Each day, their wild dance is a show for no audience. But today, hundreds of miles from the infrastructure of home, I happen to bear witness. Chaos is a privilege few get to experience.
Time is only a construct in this place; morning is howling monkeys, afternoon is packs of dogs playing – and surviving – together, early evening is a pink shoreline accompanied by a hazy, orange sunset. Night time is the laughter of friends, homemade casado and a dj set on a dark deck.
I seem to always reach this headspace in faraway places – while shuffling through a crowded bazaar in Tehran or walking hand-in-hand with a friendly stranger in Black Rock Desert – that in the absence of limitation, we expand our chests and allow space to “let the chaos rule the rest”.
Words by Shooka Raf
Edit by Falyn Freyman
Photos by Kate Fenoglio
Clothing by Brightly Twisted, NastyGal + some vintage
Song reference from Psyche by Massive Attack