You must be the change you want to see in the world.
Plunge boldly into the thick of life, and seize it where you will, it is always interesting...
I have the habit of forgetting how beautiful the lake is. Then, once in awhile, like today, I am reminded. It's best on rainy mornings (such as this one past), or cold nights, when everyone is hidden about in their little boxes. The lake seems to come out of hiding, then. It shows its personality, and if you happen to crawl down onto a rock below the cliff, where only the lake can see you, it embraces you. It keeps you safe. You sift through rocks, piling the pretty ones, and plunking the others into the water. You watch the raindrops form cocentric circles on the surface. You think of all the broken history under the water. And time stands still.
But I also remember clearly how it began. With a boy. A love, deep and real. The lake prefers lovers, although it will take lonely souls as well. I prefer the former - but have not since found it again, nor do I think I have sought it. It still lingers, as real as the days it was alive. And it changes. Every time a little different. Someday the lake will have my heart again...but only half, for I intend to share it. The lake is best on rainy mornings or cold nights, with another body to keep you warm.
I am joyful!
My life has found a path, with a fork at the end of every day. A path that has fifty thousand different endings. A path I am enjoying with sunburn, hunger, and sore feet wearing the way.
The cold descended and the heat rose - Autumn, two weeks early. Now that my love for Autumn has returned in the past two years, I have found extra joy with the falling mercury. Shivering as I crawl under the sheet I reach under the bed and pull out the down comforter I rescued from my parents house. Shaking it out and laying back I let it fall on me, engulf me, feeling like a child again. I pull it up to my chin and the shiver subsides quickly. I giggle, giddy with warmth. I am lucky. Dreams come.
My muscles are torn to their weakest. My fingers can't curl any longer and feel they're about to disappear into nothingness. I push up with my leg, just about to give up, and look up. There I see the two marks right above my head. Quickly I reach up and tap the hold with both hands, andmybodyfallsback. Into air, my limbs go weak, and I fall toward the ground. I hit the ground softly and smile. Shake it out. Unclip. 5.6. Not really my thing, but an accomplishment nonetheless. Another experience, another meaning, another possibility. New things around every corner.
I finish my apple - but dare not throw it away. Not yet. I have learned to take life slower - to look closer at things as they are. I carefully pick the seeds out with my fingernails and close them in my fist. I toss the core in the trash as I put on my sandals. As I walk, I choose spots of earth at random. I throw a seed onto it. Perhaps in 10 years, children will be eating its fruit? The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit.
This is me. This is a portrait hung on the wall of bits and bytes. I am going somewhere, and I like where I am going. The end is unknown, but I don't want to know anyway. I just want to pick a flower, put it behind my ear, look up at the clouds, and see a dinosaur. If you happen to see me on the trail, feel free to come along, we'll discover something together.
I want to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life... to put to rout all that is not life; and not, when I come to die, discover that I have not lived.
Carpe diem.