The Ones Living Through Me

At this time in my life I feel the weight of everyone’s expectations. She hopes I will pursue that passion of mine because she chose to give that up for herself and now she doesn’t want to see me make the same choice. She looks at me as a younger version of herself, I don’t want to let her down. He looks at me and sees a Revolutionist. He points out my loyalty to my morals and beliefs and urges me to be the advocate of man. I am not qualified to be that person but I want to try so that he isn’t disappointed in me. That woman over there, she was an educator of mine. She wants me to enter her field. She tells me that I am talented and that I should pursue the sciences, she gets so proud when I perform well. I do not want her to think I am settling. Behind that curtain and through the hall stands a man who believes in me. He talks about me to others and I am highly honored by that but at the same time that makes me nervous. He holds me to a high standard. What if I fail his test and I go from having his approval to being a crumpled piece of paper in the trash can of his memories? What if my choice leaves a bitter end to my name? Look down, that young boy looks at me like I’m a superstar. He is so young, he believes I can do anything. Oh how I want to believe his childhood innocence. She thinks I am on the verge of making my dreams come true. She doesn’t know this but every time she talks to me about my daydream believer’s goal I collapse a little more inside. What if I never make it there? Will I become a wasted talent in the things I enjoy? Not that I hold myself to the highest standard. Hell, I know my shortcomings more than anyone else, but what if I become another face in the crowd when I was born to shine on a platform? He wants me to write, and write and write. I think he wanted to be a writer but he gave up on it. I want him to see success, if it is through me then so be it. I’m carrying her ideas of who I am, I dragging his dreams for me and somehow I find myself stumbling from the weight of it all. I have to carry every possible version of my future to the finish line and make them all proud. I can’t stand to sell myself short.

I’m standing at the genesis of a road that branches into one hundred paths, now I must discover how I can walk them all.

Splash

Coming out of nothing it finds me. A splash. It surprises me.

Joy, pure joy is like a splash.

I sit and read your book, splash. I’m drenched.

My friends and I jump into the unknown with crossed fingers and somehow we land in a puddle. Joy must have accumulated here.

I’d say joy is like rain but I like to think that joy does not come in small drops. Although you could argue that joy is a constant thing that we simply choose to ignore at times like an ignored rain storm but I believe that joy comes in large, unannounced amounts all of the time.

As I admire the world I am joyful. We have so much to live for, why we forget that I’ll never understand. I find joy in the way those people carry on and I find joy in the picture that love paints. Most of all I find joy in the simple act of breathing. You could argue this but I do not think you would be in a chipper mood if you did not have oxygen, friend.

Next time you feel gloomy find where the splash is. Seek it out, it is there. When life gives you lemons, do not water them down. Instead eat them, that sour taste may spur you to get up and receive your joy! You are worth more than you know and that joy is ready to surprise you.

(so)rry

A sat on my star last night.

You know the one.  If you have forgotten, go outside by the rainbow well. Look up and count 9 stars to the left of the moon. If you are able to do that, maybe you should.

I sat on my star and thought about you. I can’t explain why but I think I might be sad. After all you moved, you packed up all of your clouds and left. Somehow you forgot to grab your rays of sunlight on your way out. I sleep with them every night so I never forget how you smell. I hope you don’t mind.

It started to rain while I was thinking. You always liked the rain. I remember how you used to run outside in the middle of a sentence because you were always worried that the rain would stop before you got to run through it. I filled my eyes with the drops that fell. To do this I had to drop down from my star for a little bit but I didn’t mind. Later I would lose these drops I saved for you. I began to think of you and they fell right out of my eyes. I’m sorry. I will replace then, I promise.

I looked into space and let my mind wander. A gust of wind nearly knocked me off of my star. I looked down in anger hoping to curse the weather that startled me so but I noticed it was a jet. How foolish would I look cursing a jet?  It sounds like something you would do. I was always too reserved when I got angry. You taught me how to get mad in a healthy way. Now I no longer own my notebook dedicated to, “Things that make me want to start a riot,” because now I handle things differently.

The moon was particularly sassy last night. I asked him if he wanted to sing a song with me and he ignored me. Isn’t there a song that has to do with the moon and not paying attention to your son? I thought so. I started to sing that song to him. He got so mad he started to fade away. I think I taught him a lesson.

I figured that I had spent too much time on my star so I tried to get down. My dress got caught on that stubborn point, you know the one that is just a little longer than the others. I laughed with the point as I removed my dress from it. I made my dress apologize.

I opened my sock drawer and noticed that you had left your bottle of tornadoes tucked in the back of the cedar moving box. I opened it, the tornado was getting claustrophobic. He thanked me and returned to the bottle after he had done his fair share of damage to my perfume bottles. Well now they are puddles and broken glass.

One last thing, I walked down the poppy path behind that old cabin we used to visit for picnics. I picked a flower and took it to you. Your gravestone is sad-looking. Reading your name through blurry eyes I sing a hymn. How we miss you. And I’ll have you know, I’m wearing that pink dress you liked so much. I remember you told me that I looked like the April Wind. That’s when I knew you liked me, after all the April Wind was your favorite thing, barely beating out the rain. I must return now, the heavens will only leave the sky open for so long. It is moments like this in which I wish I had told you about this hope my mother taught me. Had I given into my heart, I would have shared that hope with you and you would be with me. I’ll be taking a flower back with me as well. I will never forget you, and I will never forget what I forgot to do.

Observations From O’Hare

Everyone is rushing, they have places to go. The seasoned bob and weave through the masses while the rookies look up wide-eyed in hopes to find their place. Hooked to their screens they work, I cannot judge them because as I write this I do the same. Men walk with cheats puffed to bask in the success they wish to scream at onlookers through their manner. Women hold close to their belongings trying to stay on path. I admire the children and the way they follow; for the most part. I see a child beg for a souvenir and I see another lying fast asleep on their father’s shoulder. Looking, looking, looking. Coming and going. They each tell a story all their own. Perhaps they are going on their honeymoon, perhaps they are traveling to say their last goodbyes. I watch, again I continue to master the art of being a bystander. She walks quickly, maybe this is due to tardiness or maybe excitement. Her arms swing to and fro as she goes on. He walks calm and smooth. Judging by his backpack, he is going to, or coming from somewhere adventurous. I picture that man walking through trees and climbing mountains. I would be disappointed to hear that he simply went to visit his aunt. The next man comes by, he laughs with friends. I pretend that they are reminiscing an encounter with a drunk and foolish man on their travels. This is a memory that they will pull out of their minds at friendly gatherings for years to come. They will no doubt start the story telling with “do you remember that guy in Turkey?” Laughing will soon follow as they open that mind drawer. She rolls one small case. Alone she walks as she keeps a straight face. She resembles a foreigner maybe she is here to visit family. Maybe she is here to finish school. He looks like an educator. She looks like an anxious mother. He boasts the colors of our nation, he is a soldier. I want to thank him. The two sitting by me just met. The woman is blonde and speaks with an accent. She laughs with the man as they try to plug-in their phones. Is love starting here? I couldn’t tell you. They are headed to Vegas. He is here for love. She wants to experience life and he looks me in the eye as I type…oh how I hope these people are unaware that I am making them characters in my story. She is beautiful, in her heels she walks with confident steps. Grandpa. Athlete. Stewardess. Spring breaker. New guy in town. Playboy. The gang is all here. Lets go somewhere wonderful. All of you beautiful people, lets join hands and cross the ocean. Adventures await us.

London Skies

In this city I am invincible.

My neck might have a painful time because I look up so often but I hardly notice. The bitter wind burns my face but my smile is unaffected by my dropping body temperature.

Sounds, sounds, sounds.

The city never sleeps, and I realize this as I try to. I turn in my bed and look out the window, I’m here. My, this city has been calling to me for years now and I have finally answered. The city itself is intoxicating, I find myself swaying every way it tells me to. Overwhelming  joy is my addiction. Shuffling through the masses I am alone. But in my heart, I am surrounded by fellow neighbors, I belong here. The tube station is full and the platform is humming as my train to Paddington arrives. After a long day here I want to shower and sleep but the city beckons me to stay awake and keep it company, so I walk slower and look longer.

Soon enough I am at my hotel, I miss the streets already. As the water flows over my head I remember my day.

I stood in palace after palace. I marveled at some of the most glorious works of art. I literally walked in the footsteps of royalty. Hours were spent walking around Westminster Abbey. Here lies a Mover, here lies a Changer. How intriguing it was. The dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral took my words away from me. Soon enough I heard them being thrown into the Whispering Gallery. Oh the golden trims. Statues of him and her. Victor and King, their stone faces look past me and reminisce the accomplishments that made them worthy of their chiseled  immortality.

Music filled my heart and head as I walked along the places I have dreamed of. Over and over again I found myself singing in the rain…in the rain the pavement shines like silver, all the lights are misty in the river. 

Gardens full of plant life infused me with their energy. The snow fell and the rain appeared but the sun came back every time…here comes the sun….

I looked from above and enjoyed the majestic view that the people who fill my history books enjoyed. I stretched out my arms to my sides and tried to embrace the fullness of this city. How I wish I would’ve lived in their time.

My eyes begin to burn as the soap makes its way down my face. Wow, I must have really gotten lost in my mind’s journal of London.

It was in this place that my favorite author wrote. This is where he and his friends met to go over their works. Somehow I have found myself here, in the same place I have only dreamed of.

This is where my heart is alive and free.

It is as though my heart ran away from me and chose a home across the sea.

Here We Go Again

I’ve put my left shoe on my right foot again. You would think that by now I would be able to see that doing that isn’t right, but I still do it. I can tell my step is off and things don’t feel right, but I keep walking because I have places to go. My left shoe is lovely, but it doesn’t belong on my right foot. I find myself in this place often. I want something to work out so badly but it is not meant to work out. I take my future into my own hands and I try to fit things into my life that do not belong there. Doing this often causes disappointment and setting yourself up to be let down is never a good thing. But for now I will cut myself some slack. It is tough to let go and walk forward. I guess maybe I should stop looking down at these shoes and look up for  direction. Goodness, for the life of me I don’t know why I want my left shoe to fit my right foot so badly. I suppose I’ve learned to care less about my shoes because I just want to get…there. I want to be on the mountain top but I keep trying to make something happen. Clearly things need to change. I believe I am capable of moving past this whole shoe incident, but I am very stubborn. When I want something I try to make it work, even when I’m the only one working to make the shoe fit. Do you ever feel like you are caught in the same routine?

The Idea Of Knowing

Knowing is a curious thing. Actually, knowledge as a whole baffles me. I see so many people who just…know. They know where to go, they know what to do and they know who to be. I believe I have found the latter, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about this idea of knowing. I choose to believe that since there is One who knows all, we shouldn’t worry too much about our knowledge. Before you throw your pen let me explain. Since there is One who has plans for my life, I don’t need to worry about being left in the dark. I do not need to play God in my own life, for that is a role no man can reprise. I believe my job is to be a listener, a follower and a do-er. Worrying just doesn’t add up. I mean, I could write my own monologue to start with. Then I could perform my life as I see fit, that is a possible path. Or I could go through life with a script from above that is held together with blood-stained gold. Knowledge can pass over my head for I was given love, purpose and design in the garden. All I need to know is that which He shows me, all other knowledge will be left for the dogs as we enter those gates. I’ll place my tattered life into His hands and I will gain all the knowledge I need in the journey that follows.