Monday, June 14, 2010

The Great White Whale.

There was running, and there was a storm. I'm not sure if it was to or from either.

I've decided to (attempt to) update this on a (somewhat) regular basis. When I knew nobody was looking at it, I felt a little more freedom to ignore it or embrace it as I saw fit. I can't pretend to know who actually looks, who sees, who reads, who comprehends, but in the end, I've decided this isn't for you. This is for me. This is isn't you peeking in my windows, but rather me peeking out of it.

There are decisions to be made, and decisions to be ignored, and decision to leave forever undecided.

I've begun saying yes. To friends, old and new. To situations, bold and beautiful. To adventures, spontaneous. I've lost a lot of myself in the past. I'm an insensitive selfish bastard, who instead of fixing a problem, chooses to sit in the back licking my wounds and sending out snide remarks. Of the many things that make us people, one of the most important is who we choose to love. If you choose to allow communication to break down with strangers, acquaintances , friends, it's only a matter of time before those walls go up between you and those you love most. And thats only the beginning of the storm. So say yes. Not just that, but say yes, and ask others to come along. Invite those who are in whatever circle you see to join you. Maybe nobody else will say yes, but never let a no stop you from saying yes to yourself. Self discovery, 'Who am I?" has never quite worked out for me. The question shouldn't be "Who am I?" but rather "What makes me happy?"
As a friend told me recently, in perhaps not so many words, that it is not what you do, it's who you are. If they find me dead tomorrow in the street, the memories of the things I did will fade, the secrets will be smoothed over. A memory of a person begins to act like a ghost, and you forget the things they did, but you hold onto the person that was. This was an expensive lesson for me to learn, and I thank my friend every day for the little moments he was in my life.

I'd be surprised if you weren't there, but there's not enough wheat to feed the army.

A parable of sorts, based in truth and dream. Don't be mad at me for lying about the content.

Her dress swells around her knees as she strolls down the dirt path. Galoshes on, eyes facing the clouds in anticipation, her gait is almost that of a small girl walking in the sun for the sheer purposeless joy of adventure. I listen to her as she makes promises. I'm not sure who the recipients is: me, herself, the clouds, the wind, the oncoming storm?
Peals of thunder announce the lighting rolling up the horizon, and I stare at the garden across the street where a sunflower we relished began dancing in the breeze. The streets are empty, mostly, the waning sunlight and the darkening clouds turn the street into something resembling a ghost story.
Alone, we begin dancing in this pale light, the moisture in the air threating to dissolve us; we are steadfast in our decision. Tears roll out of the sky, joining with those on my face to mask the ache I have for more, always more. As the rain crashes, the wind roars, we don't fight it, merely come together, closer, to keep the warmth in. In this moment I can believe in eternity, as I never could before.

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