standing at the epicenter of life, of relaxed belonging.
The last weekend in October, I found myself walking through Grounds the morning after a wedding, most of which was spent dancing and some of which was spent thinking about conversations that were just a bit off, which got me thinking -- How much older are we? More boring? Humdrum and repetitive? What happened? Why?
As I walked alone, chilled by the unseasonably cold morning air and warmed by the inviting soft early morning light that ignited the fall foliage as if on fire, I was struck by wave after wave of nostalgia mixed with a peripheral sense that somehow my old acquaintances and friends, and myself as well?, were losing the magic that used to exude from our every pore and orifice.
I wandered to where the light was best, and the surroundings most blindingly beautiful -- the Lawn. Eventually, I found myself entering New Cabell Hall in a search for the South Lawn, which didn't exist when I still had the privilege of soaking in beauty whenever I pleased.
Despite feeling indifferent towards the South Lawn itself, I was drawn to a circle of blue stone slabs, lined with benches. Delighting in being alone with the silence, the cold, and the sunlight, I found myself drawn to the center tile and looking into the reflection of the windows before me. For the first time in a long time, I needed to write. And write I did:
Examining and reexamining a dozen and a half versions of myself -- each a new perspective -- as I stand in the center of academia; a bullseye marking the epitome of hope and culmination of collective, diversified thought. My heart aches, yearns to be surrounded in autumnal beauty, of inspiring days of learning and energy and running while pretending we are airplanes and climbing trees and mixing nature with vision, as it's meant to be.
I feel alive here. My soul is singing and my heart is breaking while my brain gives up on trying to reconcile the two. So I put feelings and thought into words the best I can. This is love. This is love, and i never want to leave, for wont of inspiration.
To live each day surrounded in beauty would make anything worth doing. To constantly look out upon the mountains, trees, every topographical miracle of nature reminds us how small we are, how big life is, how nothing we make up really matters, and how everything that existed before we were placed here does.
As I walked alone, chilled by the unseasonably cold morning air and warmed by the inviting soft early morning light that ignited the fall foliage as if on fire, I was struck by wave after wave of nostalgia mixed with a peripheral sense that somehow my old acquaintances and friends, and myself as well?, were losing the magic that used to exude from our every pore and orifice.
I wandered to where the light was best, and the surroundings most blindingly beautiful -- the Lawn. Eventually, I found myself entering New Cabell Hall in a search for the South Lawn, which didn't exist when I still had the privilege of soaking in beauty whenever I pleased.
Despite feeling indifferent towards the South Lawn itself, I was drawn to a circle of blue stone slabs, lined with benches. Delighting in being alone with the silence, the cold, and the sunlight, I found myself drawn to the center tile and looking into the reflection of the windows before me. For the first time in a long time, I needed to write. And write I did:
Examining and reexamining a dozen and a half versions of myself -- each a new perspective -- as I stand in the center of academia; a bullseye marking the epitome of hope and culmination of collective, diversified thought. My heart aches, yearns to be surrounded in autumnal beauty, of inspiring days of learning and energy and running while pretending we are airplanes and climbing trees and mixing nature with vision, as it's meant to be.
I feel alive here. My soul is singing and my heart is breaking while my brain gives up on trying to reconcile the two. So I put feelings and thought into words the best I can. This is love. This is love, and i never want to leave, for wont of inspiration.
To live each day surrounded in beauty would make anything worth doing. To constantly look out upon the mountains, trees, every topographical miracle of nature reminds us how small we are, how big life is, how nothing we make up really matters, and how everything that existed before we were placed here does.