I stand alone surrounded by people. People line the museum crowded around each display. Children with hot faces pressed against cool glass catching a glimpse of the nature contained within. Life can sometimes feel like a museum. So many eyes peering in but never knowing what’s under the surface. As I look around me the room swirls with colors and my eyes are covered in a haze. My face cools as each tear runs down my cheeks. I’ve never felt such deep loneliness in a crowd of people before. I find the comfort my soul had been aching for in their concerning glances as they pass by. I now suddenly feel on display. These tears represent my pain and the crowd is like a comforting suffocation drowning out the negativity I feed myself. Mislead by my own emotions I now feel utterly soft spoken. The words stream into the tears splashing onto the ground, I call them my worst fears. Unspoken is the hurt I have carried on my shoulders and the burden has made my back feel broken. I stand small. In this crowd I mentally escape it all. I feel safe in the silence of my own words and the strangers eyes hold me as they carry away a piece of my unspoken emotion.
So, I was inspired to write this piece after reading through a very old journal I found the other day. I read an entry I had made about feeling so alone in a crowd and wanted to dive a bit deeper into the experience. It breaks my heart to read through entries where I was clearly experiencing pain, but it just reminds me how much a journey life is and that you have to stay strong through it all.
Quite a long time ago on a cold autumn day three little girls were born. Upon the ripe age of three they were visited by a rather tall stranger in a large black cloak. His hair was an entanglement of grey wool spinning out in every which way and his loafers appeared to have been constructed around his feet as the seams were pulled tight. He opened his cloak and presented the girls with three gifts.The first gift was a small box wrapped in brown heavy paper with a sword in metallic gold on the top. The second gift was a large white envelope with a bright red seal pressed tight marking a dove. The third gift was a purple package splattered with delightful colors over a small silver shield. As each girl selected a gift the man warned in a voice heavy like ash that the girls must never inquire among each other as to what their gift contained. As the rather tall man began to fade as he stepped deeper into the woods the girls at once spread out to open their gifts among the woods.
The youngest girl pressed the large white envelope to her chest as she ran through the woods that caught pieces of her dress along the edges. She sat in a field where the sun peaked through the clouds onto her golden brown locks. With a squeal she opened the large white envelope at once to discover it to be filled with a tiny faint flakes of gold. She had never seen such a thing before and sprinkled it all over as it gleamed in the sunlight.
The oldest girl hide the small brown box under her sweater as she made her way down by the stream bank. Sitting on a collection of leaves she allowed her toes to spread wide into the cool mud. Very carefully her small fingers unwrapped the brown heavy paper ensuring the metallic gold sword kept its sparkle. Upon opening the box a small orb of glowing light danced around her creating falling streams of enchantment.
The second oldest girl still stood right where the rather tall man in the large black cloak had handed her the gift. Her eyes meticulously scanned the area before smoothing her dress out to sit in the lush grass. She slowly passed the weight of the purple package back and forth between the palms of her little hands. After careful study of the packing detail she unwrapped it in a hurry. Eager to know what the package contained a puff of smoke was emitted that covered her eyes. In this haze the world was immediately filled with bright colors and delightful sensations.
At dusk the girls returned home at once. Neither spoke a word as to what they had received. Days turned to months as the months crept into years. The girls were older and much wiser now. Neither had breathed word of that day upon the hill but the girls’ souls grew impatient. The youngest much desperately desired to know what it was that had forever changed her sisters’ lives. From this her soul was being robbed and her youth was diminishing.
For what the youngest couldn’t see in herself was everything she had ever wanted to be. Brave like her oldest sister and enchanting like the next. But comparison was a thief of joy and robbed hers like a net. Caught up a world of mystery desiring to know every turn never appreciating life because she could only see the thorns. Like a rose was her beauty but too soon was she plucked and by the river she lay running out of luck. Till the clouds covered her soul and the sun felt cool in the wind the strange now old man had appeared once again. My darling why are you sad he asked her in this way. To which she had replied what is this game you had us play? Open your eyes for you can see that each gift was not a mystery. All gifts held the same magic inside, no tricks or poor folly was I trying to hide. You see each of you is different, unique in how you feel and these gifts well they too were just as real. For each of you felt something different, a spark it did ignite for in your soul it planted a seed that very night. And as you grew your hearts have hungered for a truth to become true but now I have these words to say which Is that the magic all along was in each one of you.
Life. It doesn’t come with directions, shortcuts, or even daily advice. You’re simply born into a world of chaos and forced to choose a path for yourself. But what if I wanted to be a turtle or even a cat? They have it so easy. Sometimes when I’m procrastinating I’ll imagine how simple my life would be if I was a cat. Random indeed but hey I said I was procrastinating not actually attempting to be productive. Anyways (said in deep tone), I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and it all just makes me wish money wasn’t a part of this world. That instead people would pay others back in helping them reach their full potential or meet some objective. It would be better than money because we would be meeting more than just a means to an end. We would be reaching fulfillment and if you think about it isn’t that what we are all striving towards in this life? I know I am. When I’m not thinking about how easy life would be living as a random animal I think about what happiness I would experience and what opportunities I would more readily chase after if money didn’t exist. Every time I am always led back to being a writer, traveling, being married to the love of my life, and being a mom. But my desire to write isn’t about becoming famous or even being recognized. It’s all about mediums of expression. Expressing myself through unique patterns, movements, phrases, and filters is the only way I know how to best navigate my life through this maze of a world. So what’s the problem you may be thinking? You can just do those things now. Well you’re right. I can do those things now but a part of my feels guilty for not choosing a career or having desires to work in my field. I guess I’m split because my creative half offers a lens to see the artistic platform my degree presents itself with and my logistical half presents a case of finding tactical means of employing my degree. I suppose in my heart I want both but I’m not sure I know how to go about doing that. How does a fisherman feed its family while herding a flock? Sounds impossible right? I’m not looking for an answer because I don’t believe that’s what life is about. Finding answers to perplexing questions is only scratching the surface to a much deeper issue at hand. Perhaps life if about feeling as much of everything as possible reminding our souls that they are still in their earthly vessel. Perhaps like this post life is simply abstract and instead of choosing a path it’s about painting the world with as many colors of perspective as humanly possible and accepting the differences within through without.
Desire has ignited this fire and I want,
I want you.
Call it what you must but this feeling is more than lust.
Be with me.
Because with every beat of my heart I hear you,
I see you,
and I want to be near you.
I want you, close
Inside of me,
Nestled in my heart
There is this feeling.
A feeling I had thought was lost to the past,
Never to be seen again no matter how tight I had grasped.
So I shut my eyes to ensure this feeling will never escape.
There is no explanation for these words, but
Could this be fate?
Pull me in close because this moment is what I want the most.
Whisper my name because it pours like honey over your lips,
And with those sweet words we share our first kiss.
It’s 6:25pm. I check my phone nervously as I peer out the window onto the city. It’s beautiful. My heart flutters and I glance down attempting to conceal my smile. I touch my hair ensuring no curl has gotten out of place as I turn my music up. I want to drown out the beating of my heart as it sounds louder today than it has ever before. 6:26pm. “Hello, how are you?” No, that’s too generic. “Hey, nice to meet you.” No, that will only sound like we are two strangers in the passing. My lips roll over each other as I begin to gentle press them together, and I’m distracted from the role play of niceties repeating in my head. 6:27pm My eyes shift to my phone and my lungs thirst for more air. My hands tingle and my stomach begins to dance. Only 3 minutes remain between you and me. My head is fluttered with thoughts of our first embrace. What will it feel like. Press into me and feel me breath. Hear my heart as it spills my secrets to you. I smile, but this time it’s not hidden. 6:28pm. My hand reaches for my bag as my phone plays the song that I know could only be meant for you. A text reads “I’m here” and I squeal. This is it. Could it be that there is an us. The sun is setting and this ride has come to an end. 6:29pm. I stand in the aisle as anticipation washes over me. My mind is in a daze, and I take one last big breath as I step down onto the platform. This is really happening. Here. Now. No turning back. 6:30pm. “Hi!” I smile. You smile. And our story begins.
And in that moment it was beautiful. The lights, well they were just right. The music played softly in the background and it was just, perfect. The room It held your glow like a lasting breath drawn in to the point of complete exhaustion just to preserve time. My heart leaped in circles but my eyes were the only ones you could see. “Hold me. See me. Be with me.” You drew near and my lips quivered in anticipation. A pause lingered and our eyes became the entanglement of dancing visions of us together. “Love. Lust. Fear.” My hand fit perfectly inside yours as we escaped the room as one. We saw no one, we heard no one, but we felt everything. Every sensation flowed over us like giant waves crashing onto the shore. THIS.IS.LOVE. Or was it? We woke with our memories in a blur. Like pieces lost to a puzzle some things we can never put back together. “Here. Where. There.” Our lives drifted apart but our hearts never forgot. The sand, your hands, those lips. They weaved together our story that was once a beautiful bliss, but we never thought it would come to this. “Tears. Check ups. A birthing room.” It was all happening too soon. Sixteen. That’s how old we were, when we held the world and could never be too bold. I look in your eyes and in my heart I felt despise, but you continued to stay by my side. “Arguments. Bills. Late Night shifts” I never would have expected you to put up with all of this. We exchanged our vows knowing now that the life we had lived was only a mere part of His. We gave up our souls to the one who lived above and from that moment on is when we knew love.
The breeze against my skin reminded me that I was finally free. Among the trees I felt safe with my feet knitted between the crushed leaves on the cool soil. Run. Breathe. Escape. The wind passed through my curls leaving whispers for me to hear. They said it was time to take flight but only during the night. With one swoop my arms braced onto the base of a large tree. With all my momentum, it captured me. The rough bark against my skin told me that this was not my sin. As the branches swayed above I remembered Charlie with the golden dove. He told me our bodies were only temporary in this world and that someday our Father would come for us. He said not to cry when we look to the sky for the bodies that hang are only there to sing the songs we all sang. “Freedom is coming and rejoicing is near. That is why you must run my dear.” I ran through the night on feet blistered and sore. I ran through the night till I could soar. Brave was my heart but young were my years. I had to escape for my mother feared. “You are too head strong and outspoken for our kind. Someday the Master will begin to mind. I have dreams for you my darling sweat pea.” But what are dreams when they are covered in soot, locked up, and choked out until they puke? What are dreams if your only colors are black? Faded, left out, and unwanted at that. A tear I won’t shed on this journey of mine. I push off of the tree as I begin to see mine. With every pound of my heart, I begin to see art. The colors of the world that have been spread so far apart. Run. Jump. Leap. Over every hurdle I must keep, my body in motion to avoid drowning in this sea of commotion. Someday I will be free and on that day I will be me.