Friday, May 22, 2015

500 Words. Day 1. Where am I going with this?


Finding beauty in the broken tree on the path


To have yourself shaken awake by the actions of others is unsettling. To realize that you have been sleep walking, living life in a dazed, half-awake, half-asleep state can be shocking. It takes a few moments to assimilate, to recognize, that you are safe in your surroundings. The ground may feel unsteady, your feet may feel shaky, but if you breathe, then you start to re-connect to yourself and feel life.

May has been a roller coaster of a month. Warm weather, cold weather, frost advisories. Friends made, friends lost, uncertainty surrounding decisions about jobs. The only place that I seem to find myself is on the pages of my journal, or on the paths in the park. To hear the crunching of the rocks, and twigs underfoot, feeling the sunlight as it streams through the trees to gently touch my face, to hear the birds serenading anyone who cares enough to stop for a moment and listen. This is how I remember that I am a part of all of this. The beauty of nature is the same beauty that is my heart and soul.

I get lost in the words of romantic poets, wishing that those words are whispered to me in the dark. I find myself imagining that someone thinks of me randomly and has an urge to send me words that stand out to them, that remind them of me.

My heart and soul ache for the freedom of birds, being able to fly whenever they feel like it. Random musings that keep me grounded throughout my day. Birds, poets, being made of the same stardust that makes up everyone else and every other thing surrounding me.

Is that why, when I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and saw someone share a blog post created by someone I don't know, I was drawn to read it because I noticed they had committed to write 500 words a day for 30 days?

What is it about the page, the words, the stories that swirl around in my mind that simultaneously draw me in and push me away? Is it that I have always wanted to write, ever since I was in third grade and wrote a story about a carousel horse on a shelf? Is it the knowing that I will uncover and expose myself while recording the thoughts, dreams, whispers that pour forth from my being?

Whatever it is, and similar to my journey with yoga, I am feeling that familiar pull. "All I want to do is write." When I softly speak those words, low enough that I wonder if I even thought them, then I know that it is time to turn on this path and see where it takes me. I will step gently, and slowly, taking in the sights an sounds all around me, filling myself up and at the same time emptying myself of everything.

I guess that means I'm going to "experiment" with this writing 500 words for 30 days thing*.

On day one I catch myself wondering what will happen over the next 30 days, but that is not what I am here to do. I am here to write, to allow my spirit to sing through the taps and clicks as my fingers fly over the keyboard.

*I'm participating in a 500 words for 30 days "not a challenge" put forth by Kale and Cigarettes.

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