Where Have I Been?
My goodness...
I have spent the last two days reading and re-reading some of my old journals on this thing-who was that guy two years ago? What was I so depressed about four years ago? I have read about birthdays and trips to California and happiness and sadness and teaching and kids who make stupid decisions and kids who make me proud. I have read a life I have tried desperately to chronicle, to find, and to preserve; moments that I must have never wanted to let go of.
I remember some of them distinctly.
I remember when my Mom came to visit us for Thanksgiving. She insisted I watch "Garden State" with her, and after some hesitation, I finally agreed. It was a moving experience; one of those in my life I can't believe I didn't know I wanted. Watching that movie with my mother changed my life. I know it may sound silly to some of you, but that's what kind of moment it was.
I remember spending a Christmas with my family in California, my first there in eleven years. I remember my Grandfater-my Tata-asking me to end the Christmas service at church by praying. It was an honor I will never forget. I remember being humbled; I remember hugging him, crying with him, and being thankful that I had THAT moment to share with him.
These are moments we have to remember; we need for them to exist as long as we do, in all of their vividness and color and shape and texture; we need for them to separate themselves from our regular, shapeless lives.
It was during lunch yesterday that I sat here at my desk and asked out loud, "Where did my soul go?" I wasn't exaggerating; I was serious. These days, I feel as if life has secretly drained me of my gumption to see the world through artistic eyes. I feel passionless, lifeless, and without reason to go running to my computer to chronicle the beauty of simple moments that can be life changing if we just let them be. I don't see those moments anymore. Not because I don't want to-of course I do!-it's just that when your gas tank is leaking slowly, you don't notice until the light comes on the dash, and you're nowhere near a gas station. So now I sit, on the side of a deserted road, waiting for help.
Maybe it's time I just walk. One step at a time. Eventually, even deserted roads sprout with life.
I'm officially committing to writing again here. I don't care who listens. I have some things I just have to say. Walk on. Forward. I have more moments to chronicle. They deserve the attention.
- El Ruiz
I have spent the last two days reading and re-reading some of my old journals on this thing-who was that guy two years ago? What was I so depressed about four years ago? I have read about birthdays and trips to California and happiness and sadness and teaching and kids who make stupid decisions and kids who make me proud. I have read a life I have tried desperately to chronicle, to find, and to preserve; moments that I must have never wanted to let go of.
I remember some of them distinctly.
I remember when my Mom came to visit us for Thanksgiving. She insisted I watch "Garden State" with her, and after some hesitation, I finally agreed. It was a moving experience; one of those in my life I can't believe I didn't know I wanted. Watching that movie with my mother changed my life. I know it may sound silly to some of you, but that's what kind of moment it was.
I remember spending a Christmas with my family in California, my first there in eleven years. I remember my Grandfater-my Tata-asking me to end the Christmas service at church by praying. It was an honor I will never forget. I remember being humbled; I remember hugging him, crying with him, and being thankful that I had THAT moment to share with him.
These are moments we have to remember; we need for them to exist as long as we do, in all of their vividness and color and shape and texture; we need for them to separate themselves from our regular, shapeless lives.
It was during lunch yesterday that I sat here at my desk and asked out loud, "Where did my soul go?" I wasn't exaggerating; I was serious. These days, I feel as if life has secretly drained me of my gumption to see the world through artistic eyes. I feel passionless, lifeless, and without reason to go running to my computer to chronicle the beauty of simple moments that can be life changing if we just let them be. I don't see those moments anymore. Not because I don't want to-of course I do!-it's just that when your gas tank is leaking slowly, you don't notice until the light comes on the dash, and you're nowhere near a gas station. So now I sit, on the side of a deserted road, waiting for help.
Maybe it's time I just walk. One step at a time. Eventually, even deserted roads sprout with life.
I'm officially committing to writing again here. I don't care who listens. I have some things I just have to say. Walk on. Forward. I have more moments to chronicle. They deserve the attention.
- El Ruiz