i wrote the post below one week ago, and meant to post it then but didn't have internet again until now.
i am home now, from the below mentioned travels, and i find myself even more in need of the mantra at the bottom of this post than i was this time a week ago.
two weeks of concentrated travels and time spent with people and new experiences was a lot for me. i loved and reveled in every second of it, but now, settling back home i'm experiencing one hell of a come-down and withdrawal in a weirdly backwards and unexpected way.
as someone who is used to and thrives in being alone more often than not, i've been disoriented by my lack of desire for it after this trip. however there's so much i have to process and understand from both New Orleans and Atlanta that i'm only able to do by myself. a lot of wonderful things happened while i was away, especially in the way of eye opening conversations with people. there were a LOT of those. perhaps my feeling of overwhelm with that aspect especially is due in part to me being such a words person, but i also think there was some heightened level of importance in many of the things discussed with both new and old friends these last few weeks.
Writings From A Would Be Beatnik
That Thing
in Thoughts
that thing.
the identification of which everyone always talks about gloriously obtaining when you recognize the thing it is you love doing more than anything else. or, at least, more than most things.
the discovery of which, allegedly, comes when you lose track of time doing said thing.
Moon Musings
in Thoughts
beautiful new moon
you are a welcome face
at my window.
you greet me always with a consistent serenity
pure of face and,
should you have one,
heart.
(though perhaps suggesting you have such a mercurial organ is a defilement to your etherial and constant nature)
A Winter Morning
i reach the end of the shadows and that is when i feel the sun warming my back, reaching me finally, as it had crept higher than the trees. i feel its heat through the worn wool grey sweater i often wear (admittedly one of the more unflattering pieces in my wardrobe and yet something i've held onto for eight years now. which is a thing i am always fighting—my attachment to material things).
the suns fingers slide down my body, starting at my hair, falling down my back, slipping down my calves and then being kicked off by my heels.
Read MoreTo Keep Trying
in Thoughts
i have been away from this space for quite some time.
it wasn't intentional at first.
but with each passing day, week, and then proceeding month(s), it felt harder and harder to be back here.
i am in a place of transition.
i've said that to a lot of people lately.
but i don't really feel that it aptly reflects my true state. a transition implies that you know where you are going, you have a direction you are headed, something you are working towards, you are moving from this to that.
The Middle
in Thoughts
well, this is the middle.
the in-between and un-done.
i know you get uncomfortable here.
but it's necessary.
for you can't get to the end without going through a middle to get there
A Vessel
in Thoughts
the vessel of me— i often think of my body in this way.
as a container.
as something that is capable of holding and harboring and keeping but also having the ability to be empty and having things poured out of it.
namely thoughts, actions, emotions.
but i also just love the word vessel— as it’s another name for a ship.
Priorities
in Thoughts
our priorities aren’t what we say they are, but rather what we do.
Read More
Level Ground
i ran.
and i ran and ran and ran.
the driving feeling that manifested physically beat inside me repeatedly until i acted on it.
i constantly wanted to run away.
runrunrunrunrunrunrun.
the feeling i had, which i interpreted as a need, was constant.
and yet even when i acted on it, even when i did run in some form or another, arriving never eased the command.
it didn’t let up.
“you still need to run” something inside of me would say.
“you have to escape”
“you don’t belong here”
wandering flushes a glory that fades with arrival.
Imperfections
in Thoughts, Slow Living
the history carried within things is much more evident within their imperfections.
of objects. of ourselves.
by which i mean:
it is by the worn deck of a boat that you can gauge how many storms it’s weathered.
the lines by a woman’s eyes that tell of how many times she’s smiled because she’s chosen to see the good in life vs. the bad.
the calluses on a mans hands that showcase how hard he’s worked at his craft.