Lightness In Being

He sits silently, tears streaming down his face, without shame or self consciousness.
This is not how he was raised.
Men don't cry.
They are stoic in the face of adversity.
Devoid of emotion.
Indomitable.

He hears his heart pulse in his ears, feels the flush of heat creeping into his cheeks, spilling down his neck under a mass of a thick, dense beard, sculpted tight to his jawline so as to not obscure the landscape of tattoos covering almost every inch of his body.

His body.
That in and of itself is monumental.
Glorious. Hulking. Strong. Capable.
Impenetrable.

His shoulders shake and his breath comes in gasps, eyes soft and red from weeping.
He takes a long, slow breath, closing his eyes, his hand lifts to his heart as his head drops softly toward his chest.

He's beautiful like this.
Open, available, transparent.
The new normal.
Wondrously so.
He is lighter now.
With compassion comes immense relief.
No more anger or shame, blame or anxiety.

Just release.
Freedom from long held patterns and beliefs branded into his psyche, defining his sense of self.

Then the crash.

Sit down, get back up again. And again. And again.
Until he could stay upright and move forward, of his own volition.
Grace in gentleness.
A lightness of being, all 287 pounds of it.

A sigh, release.
His hand floats to his mouth and caresses his beard, fingers pressing lightly on his lips as the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile.
Wonder in his new found self.




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