Stumbling through...
I am: a poet, an idealist, a realist, a lover of life, an extroverted introvert, a seeker of challenges. I don't want to just walk through life but, rather, dance, laugh, cry & stumble through.
slip through the cracks
Yesterday somebody stole my umbrella from a hotel lobby. It was a beautiful little blue umbrella with a wooden handle.
Yesterday it was also storming like crazy in New York. That cold, finger-curling kind of storm that requires gloves, heavy coats, an umbrella. After my hotel fiasco, I had none of these. Every awning became my refuge, I puddle-jumped from one to the next trying to keep my wet head warm. Even worms don't like this kind of rain.
This was when my heart began to thump and I knew: it would be time to take out the sweaters from under my bed. Being a Pennsylvania girl, I am used to some brutal winters. Pittsburgh never spares a real Fall or cruel Winter. Many of my childhood memories are filled with seasonal motifs, jumping into piles of leaves, autumnal reds and browns, catching snowflakes on my tongue, trudging uphill with a plastic sled. I know seasons. And while I have had dreams of San Diego's year-round weather, it just doesn't have the same magic. There's something about packing up sandals and pulling out boots that brings a thrill to my heart.
Seasons mark a very tangible change. They allows us to let go of something (bye bye bike rides) and reflect. They're an opportunity to start anew. And while I don't like catching colds or crying through the flu, I do like a bit of cool air to slip through the cracks of my window pane. And that feeling I get when I sit, cocooned in a blanket, while the cold frosts the gravel. Nature making change, marking change, turning like the air in our lungs. Breathing here, here, here, breathing: here!
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they sing.
I want you
to pet the palms
of my hands with your
thumbs. Kiss
the salt off my face.
Want to see
past our
eyelids beating
like butterfly wings
into
the heart of things
where our
dysfunctional
little armies
sing: you,
they sing: you, you,
you, you,
u.
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A day in late September
9/29/09
The sky is gray and dark today, a washed-out-once-purple gray. Overcast and melancholy like the Damien Rice song playing in my ear, making me want to speak through stuttered breaths, something that is true. Being alive, in heightened moments, can be overwhelming. Other times it can go unnoticed and feel mundane, that sort of t.v. watching, auto pilot living.
This morning I woke up late, stripped of an odd dream that I can no longer remember cept' for the fact that it was odd. I showered, used a freshly laundered towel that smelled of sweet fabric softener and soap. It was the most pleasant thing that has happened yet today: smelling that towel. It made me happy.
The rest of this morning I have been holding something down, not quite sure what it is, but something. Something heavy that begs to be noticed, What next, Natalie? What next? Get moving, get more, make more, be more, do more, fix more. Ah. Shut up. Let me smell towels and look out at the grey sky and feel nothing but calm. Nothing but calm. Do you hear me? Settle yourself.
In these moments, I am reminded to breathe, sip my chocolate textured coffee and
have gratitude for simply being alive. This is also the time when I think of the manatees. I know, it sounds weird. Manatees? What the hell? But when I was on my vacation, in that little motor boat on the salty seas, something happened when those oafy mammals rose, face up, to catch air.
Something broke open in me, out of my chest, something exciting, simple & exhilarating. I had just walked through the rain forest, body covered in mosquito bites, dried mud, and heat. I was tired, lethargic, in need of a nap and some cool ice water. And then the manatee appeared, their massive rubbery bodies would cast a shadow before they surfaced. Their giant nostrils would poke up & gather air, before they'd dive back underwater, slump backed and slow.
Instantly, I was eight years old again, running around the boat, screaming & squealing, trying to touch their tails, pointing each time they were coming up to the surface. My friend thought I was nuts, suffering some odd form of heat stroke that left me giddy and elusive. But I was just so alive, so tapped in to the moment that I simply forgot about itchy skin, sunburn, cameras, and anything else that might have been present on that boat.
There was such a release in watching nature, as if I was able to detach some giant ball and chain that I carry around. The ball and chain of my goals and aspirations, my desire to make some tiny mark in this world. The ball and chain that just feels heavy and undefined, a fire ball of stress. Who cares about figuring out your future when manatees are surfacing and diving in the wild? Who cares about anything other than simply being alive?
I have been trying to keep that feeling like some seashell memento from my trip. Hold it close to my heart and have its wisdom excite me again, even when I am doing the most mundane of tasks, like separating laundry or cleaning dirty dishes. But alas, that moment is hard. The ball & chain feels so much more familiar. But I am just an animal, I tell myself, all I need to do is survive. Eat and breathe and watch the leaves turn yellow. Fold my knees into the sheets and sleep, dream of fireflies lighting up a night's sky.
Filed under //
personal reflection
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mucky, dirty, dark
I've been doing lots of brainstorming to save myself from the unknown. The mucky, dirty, dark, unknown. I tell myself: brain storm, c a l m yourself.
I read somewhere that people don't really desire happiness, they desire peace. I think that's true.
Filed under //
personal reflection
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