Tag Archives: Life

The Struggle Between The Tree And The Wind

6 Jan

Am I the only one that feels this tension, this pulling within?

I am so afraid of being grounded, yet at times it’s what I want more than anything.

I decided, years ago, I’d rather be a wanderer.

But lately I feel old.

Lately I want to take my belongings out of storage.

Lately I want to live somewhere where I can build a home.

I know these thoughts are ok but sometimes I hate them.

I hate the thought of being stuck.

I  think, “I used to be wild and free.”

But no one is putting chains on me but me.

(This is me surviving.Walking, pacing, watching the sky change.)

I always tell people to embrace these  seasons of coming and going, of no strings attached.

It’s not like I have a family to take care of.

It’s not like I even have a job where I am stuck in one place.

(But oh at times, how green the grass seems anywhere else.)

I am 26 and no more sure than I was 10 years ago.
But I am ready for life to not be about me.

So I tell myself I can follow my passion.
I can live in abundance…

Wait….. I do.
I do live in abundance.
I have so much beauty, love, people. I am doing what I love, too.

Someone from New England asked me last night if I just love living in Texas.

After 8 years I could say honestly that I do.
(Trust me, even forming those words is an act of rebellion to my vagabond soul.)

I used to count my days by the places I went.
I relished living out of a suitcase.

I dreamed of endless places and people and possibilities.
It was never easy but it was worth the freedom I felt.

Have I gotten so comfortable?
Have I fallen into desiring normal instead of living an adventure?

Those things that were so intertwined in the fabric of my being, being reminded over and over that it’s not only ok not to know, but I’d rather not, cause

“Life is better off a mystery.”

So I can be free.
Every day can be magical
It’s all up to me.

I ask myself,

“Can I be a tree or can I be the wind?”

The answer is,

“Both.”

“When did I lose it?” I ask, fearing the worst.

The answer is,
“Never.”

The Madness Of Celebrating Death

21 Nov

I walk, as I do, before the sun goes to bed

it happens early these days

despite it being hot enough to sweat

I sit on a hill facing some trees

I pick up a leaf dead and nearly colorless

and crinkle it in my fingers

I laugh for no reason

other than life being funny

then it comes as a rush

torrents of joy through my body

and I see above myself

a bird watching this being

alone on a hill shaking with giggles

I wonder if maybe I am

a child

ripe with newness

or a mad old woman who has seen

too much of the world

or maybe I am both

laughing and crunching leaves

enjoying the sound it makes

crazy and free and whole

feeling too young or too old

for my twenty-six-year-old skin

never getting “used to” being me

in all the coming and going

all the madness and beauty

and I stop laughing for a moment

and stare at the trees

so long they seem to shift

what’s left of their colors melding

their branches beckoning me

to join their yearly party of temporary death

and I concur with myself I must be crazy

and laugh a little more for effect

then I pause to catch up with

the narration in my head

and I realize

I am seeing again

and like the ruined leaf

dying a bit

so I may live a little more bravely

next spring

Art Is Home

23 Jul

notes build like bricks
to create structures to be filled
with souls who find home there

words mix like swirling colors in paint cans
making drab and old weathered browns
new blush reds
and starry-eyed blues

we live inside art because we need to know
our slight hope of excruciating beauty
really means something

that this doesn’t have to fade with childhood
this belief fireflies glow because they need to
light up the black
that willow trees push their way through thick layers
because they have to see the sun

and we’ll know the best thing to fill time and rooms with
is hysterical laughter
and songs that walk through walls

we live inside creativity because
if we don’t see newness
in each morning
we cave into death

we know if we begin to think it’s all been done before
we may as well cripple our legs our gouge out our eyes

so we swing wide the front door
ignoring locks and alarms systems
we let our hearts become a canvas
and our minds a sketch pad
we allow words written across our limbs

and then we know

we live inside beauty because
we need to know beauty lives inside us

Smudgy Pictures of the Future, AKA "I have no idea what I am doing."

10 Jul

Here I am again. This is too familiar, but each time I go through the same old worry, same old freak-out, same old resolution and finally, a sense of peace. The future feels  blurry, and in my humanness, blurry feels scary. I have vague impressions, colors and smudgy lines. Words and songs, faces, images. But the actual tangible time line in my head is at a stand still. The “logical” preparatory part of my brain shuts down, otherwise anxiety will set in.

When people ask me the “whens,’ “whats” and “hows,” I don’t have an answer. I’ve learned to just smile and say “yes,” to try to choke out all the “what-ifs” churning, taunting, trying to control me, to rob my peace.

I can’t let them.

I laugh at my 21 year old smug self who figured by the time 26 came around, everything would be so sure.

The older I get, the more I realize it never is.

Because we equate sure with plans, with actions, with what fills up our 9-5.

I wish I could erase these ideals that say in order to be happy you must have some sort of “stability.”

Again, stability is equated to career, finances, house.

In that sense of the words, I have nothing sure, nothing stable.

How many times have I uttered, “I have no idea what I am doing with my life.”

But saying this doesn’t have to be tragic. Maybe it can be… releasing.

Maybe I can remind myself for the billionth time, I can find joy in the unknown.

The unknown is where I start to live.

The world is open. It is my playground. Anything is possible. Anywhere is possible.

Stability, sureness, they revolve not around my source of income or where I lay my head at night, but the people in my life, the relationships.

And ultimately, my Savior.

I forget this, and it’s like forgetting what I look like, who I am. And so, I need to be shook up. I need to run out of time on my lease, run out of money, wonder what I am going to do next. I need to go on a road trip having no idea what my life is going to look like in a few months. I need to walk forward, love, let my passion (not my worry) carry me.

I need to give everything to projects I fully believe in, things I know deep down in the core of my heart, “If I don’t create this, I am cheating myself. I am cheating the world.” I need to spend my time and energy cultivating meaningful relationships, whispering thank yous  to my creator, laughing with no fear of the future.

Then, and only then, I will be free from the “what-ifs” and the lame cultural ideas of success and stability, from the lies of what happiness looks like. Then I will be free, with an open road, an open heart, I’ll have room for so much more beauty and meaning in my life.

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