I am comfortable... which is strange, as I used to fear being
comfortable... I attributed comfort to laziness, I thought it would
evoke complacency in me. Conversely, contentment seems to have
acquiesced a sense of warmth within me... It's renewed me as opposed to
bringing me down... It's ignited a passion for the intricacies that are
normally so engrained in my day to day, that I often missed them. Each
sunrise and sunset seems to be more radiantly awe-inspiring
these days. The details of those austere moments have been
electrified. I
am hyper aware of each moment... savoring them on the tip of my tongue,
like a child catching snowflakes for the first time. I'm suddenly
acutely cognizant of all those little things I had closed myself off
too, and I am so humbled to be able to experience them with this keener
vision.
I think, at some point, I had convinced
myself that my 'fairytale' was long ago written, and the sooner I
accepted the alternate ending, the better off I would be. I think that
is what I have been doing these last few years... living out that
alternate ending... there were no white horses, and I was the one
wearing the armor. As a writer, I told myself that tinge of bitterness
gave me an edge, it's what fueled my sharp tongue and often times shrill
tone, but living each day of that story made life a little more dull.
Each day, another tiny piece of me withered and decayed. Despite having
kept myself occupied in order to ward off that complacency I feared so
much, I actually sank right into it... I totally bought into the
finality of that alternate ending. I completely dismissed that my story
continues to be written every single day, and discredited myself as the
author...
Then one day, suddenly things changed. My
world-view was flipped on it's end. Having that jadedness flushed out of
me has been a scary, but refreshing, rush and I have never been so
obliged to be proven wrong. While I have always been grateful for the
time, perspective, and consciousness afforded me, that gratitude has
been reaching new heights as of late. To say this was worth the life
time wait is an understatement that dwarfs Mount Everest into a tiny
pile of pebbles.
The view is stunning from up here.
It's serene and limitless. Vast and panoramic, as I survey the
landscape, it takes my breath away- time and time again. Whereas this
site would have previously exhausted me, in this moment, my energy
abounds. I want to explore every single inch of it with you. I want to
discover every cave, peak, and valley. I want to sink into the depths
of this... into the depths of you...us. Basking in the ataraxia that
exudes from each moment spent with you... even when we are apart I can't
help but revel in how amazing this is, how inspired I am.
The
inspiration piece is intense... I'm bubbling over with it, and yet I
can scarcely get it out. It's the most obscure sort of writer's block
I've ever encountered... ideas so fleeting I cannot possibly commit them
to type, the next flies in before the last scampers off...
multiplying like rabbits with each tick of the clock. I supposed I am
more accustomed to brooding then musing...
Don't get me wrong, I am in no way lamenting, I am just learning what it
is to surrender to this state of mind... I haven't lost my voice, but
merely found another intonation, each separate, but dependent upon one
another, the task is now to teach them to dance...
I wanna lock arms with you and get lost in this... find a tiny cabin on the side
of a mountain and just soak it all in. Stripped of the burdens of day
to day...if only briefly...construct our own blanket fort, untethered from work, technology, time, and responsibility. Just
crisp air, brilliant stars, you, me, and this intangible euphoric propensity . I wanna lie next to you and
forget the rest of the world even exists. Losing myself in the cadence
of your heartbeat, commingling with the swirling of my own...moving to the provocative symphony composed from
two souls pulsing to the same oscillation ...a synergy that arranges itself and produces a sound so silently sweet.
