Life's Magic

My impatience is going to get the best of me. For the better part of the past two years, I have been almost obsessive with not only clawing myself out of this massive hole of despair but trying to assign meaning to everything as well. Every person. Every experience. Every feeling. Every decision.

While I don't doubt that there indeed is meaning ascribed to all of the above mentioned, I can't help but feel at times that I'm trying to live beyond my years. I'm so busy trying to get to that point, that mysterious, shape-shifting yet undeniably desirable point where everything is supposed to make sense, that I'm missing all the good stuff along the way. I mean, I have an appreciate eye and a heart as well as an ear and mind. I know when to stop and smell the roses...

I just seem to have this nagging feeling that what I'm trying to grasp at simply doesn't exist-not in a physical sense anyway. It's self-created. Maybe I created it to give myself a light at the end of the tunnel? I don't know. What I do know, is that I have wasted far too much time waiting for this act of 'self actualization' to reveal itself. I can't falsely create it; that would defeat the purpose. Like love, I only need to enjoy the ride along with myself, and it'll come. I won't know when, and I won't know why, but what's life without a little bit of magic?

Let It Grow

It was too late, cracks escalated
breaking us down. Keep walking

don't look back for
deception awaits the eyes.
Lies, promises
stories, memories
all with the hope-
the hope to one day slowly
edge back into consciousness.

Thoughts planted, wound up
It's time to let them go.

Allow your feet to cease course,
breathe a moment.
Feel it with all your heart. Watch
those tail lights of a sorry
past life fade away.

How I Became

Abelle, thank you for your last post. I have decided to follow in your footsteps and also post a little something about what has spurred me into becoming me.

Photo style.

All of these contribute to who I am today, in no particular order, mind you. The good. The bad. The beautiful. The ugly. Also, sorry about the fuzzy ones. Some of these were unfortunately saved to photobucket.

Designed to Fly

In light of my recent chat with Casey, I decided to share my favorite poem with you all. It's entitled 'Designed to Fly' by Ellen Waterston, and it's also the poem at the front of my Life Book if you will, a book of everything that makes me happy. Enjoy.

After ten hours of trying
the instructor undid
my fingers, peeled
them one by one
off the joystick.
"You don't need
to hold the plane
in the air," he advised.
"It's designed to fly.
A hint of aileron,
a touch of rudder,
is all that is required."

I looked at him
like I'd seen God.
Those props and struts
he mentioned, they too,
I realized, all contrived.
I grew dizzy
from the elevation
from looking so far
down at the surmise:
the airspeed of faith
underlies everything.
Lives are designed
to fly.

The Other, part 2

I got up, banished the Other from my thoughts, opened the window again, and let the sun in. Its light bathed everything - the mountains with their snow-covered peaks, the ground blanketed in dry leaves, and the river, which I could hear but not see.

The sun shone on me, warming my nude body. I was no longer cold - I was consumed by a heat, the heat of a spark becoming a flame, the flame becoming a bonfire, the bonfire becoming an inferno. I knew.

I wanted this.

I also knew that from this moment on I was going to experience heaven and hell, joy and pain, dreams and hopelessness; that I would no longer be capable of containing the winds that blew from the hidden corners of my soul. I knew that from this moment on love would be my guide - and that it had waited to lead me ever since childhood, when I had felt love for the first time. The truth is, I had never forgotten love, even when it had deemed me unworthy of fighting for it. But love had been difficult, and I had been reluctant to cross its frontiers.

I realized that I had known nothing of love before. I'd thought that I, as a mature woman, would be able to control the heart of the girl who had been looking for so long for her prince. Then he had spoken about the child in all of us - and I'd heard again the voice of the child I had been, of the princess who was fearful of loving and losing.

For four days, I had tried to ignore my heart's voice, but it had grown louder and louder, and the Other had become desperate. In the furthest corner of my soul, my true self still existed, and I still believed in my dreams. Before the Other could say a word, I had accepted the ride [with him]. I had accepted the invitation to travel with him and to take the risks involved.

And because of that - because of that small part of me that had survived - love had finally found me, after it had looked for me everywhere. Love had found me, despite the barricade that the Other had built across a quiet street in Zarazoga, a barricade of preconceived ideas, stubborn opinions, and textbooks.

I opened the window and my heart. The sun flooded the room, and love inundated my soul.

*I know these have been long, sorry about that. I'm currently reading By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho (the author of The Alchemist) and I couldn't help but share my favorite parts with you.

The Other

I give you an old, long-forgotten tale:

Man runs into an old friend who had somehow never been able to make it in life. "I should give him some money," he thinks. But instead he learns that his old friend has grown rich and is actually seeking him out to repay the debts he had run up over the years.

They go to a bar they used to frequent together, and the friend buys drinks for everyone there. When they ask him how he became so successful, he answers that until only a few days ago, he had been living the role of the "Other."

"What is the Other?" they ask.

"The Other is the one who taught what I should be like, but not what I am. The Other believes that it is our obligation to spend our entire life thinking about how to get our hands on as much money as possible so that we will not die of hunger when we are old. So we think so much about money and our plans for acquiring it that we discover we are only alive when our days on earth are practically done. And then it's too late."

"And you? Who are you?"

"I am just like everyone else who listens to their heart: a person who is enchanted by the mystery of life. Who is open to miracles, who experiences joy and enthusiasm for what they do. It's just that the Other, afraid of disappointment, kept me from taking action."

"But there is suffering in life," one of the listeners said.

"And there are defeats. No one can avoid them. But it's better to lose some of the battles in the struggle for your dreams than to be defeated without ever even knowing what you're fighting for."

"That's it?" another listener added.

"Yes, that's it. When I learned this, I resolved to become the person I had always wanted to be. The Other stood there in the corner of my room, watching me, but I will never let the Other into myself again-even though it has already tried to frighten me, warning me that it's risky not to think about the future.

"From the moment that I ousted the Other from my life, the Divine Energy began to perform its miracles."

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