The 'Worth Having'

Do you remember that old adage: "Nothing worth having comes easy"?
I am a living exhibit on the subject, placed on this earth maybe only to serve as evidence in support of this theory. Every time I embark on a journey to improve my life, knowing full well it will be a major adjustment, it instead turns into a battle of epic proportions. Uprooting my life for a 3-month internship 3 hours away becomes complicated by serious illness, car accidents and ER visits from Hell. Starting graduate school turns into an exercise in computer malfunctions and complications with a new computer sprouting legs and apparently walking away, never mind having the wrong textbook delivered and a glitch in my homework submission system.
At some point, I've had all I can take. I throw in the proverbial towel, turn my face skyward and give up. Last Wednesday I suffered a moment of defeat; asking please please, can I have a respite, this is all I can take, thank you.
Apparently, some one is listening.

The Color of Courage

I am sitting at my desk when it hits me. My eyes well up with tears and I'm sure my voice would crack if I could bring myself to speak. My brain tells my heart to save it, at least until I'm behind the shield of my own walls; then I can mourn them.
The trivial nature of ALL my concerns strikes with the force of a Basij baton, but I lack the courage to withstand it. I try to let go - empty myself of the job, money, relationship worries that cloud true freedom - I try to become clear enough to reflect the colors of those I am struggling to emulate.
Their colors are more than that of a candidate - they are those of a movement. It is a statement of purpose, and a refusal to waste the lives that have already been spent in these streets. They are the "voice", the face that refuses to shy away, turned into the glaring light with courage and truth. People I've never known, who are standing and fighting and dying in a place I have no connection to; I will mourn them. But I will not wear black to show my respect and reverence - I will wear the color of courage, everyday, until it ends.

Selfishly Hot

These past few days have been selfishly hot. The sun is relentless in his quest to drain the energy from this town, and I can't tell if it's the heavy air or heavy thoughts that are perched so happily on my chest, but it's making it nearly impossible to breathe. I lay in my sweltering room far into the night, begging the cool night air to advance and bring me sleep. The heat has made dozing short and fitful. The swirling thoughts that fill these hours are dizzying and relentless; they creep into my dreams and steal my peace.
I long to dive into the foggy lake I used to love. I miss the cool water slipping across my skin, from finger tips to toes, swallowing me whole - wishing for the short moment I'm underwater that I would in fact be devoured, and never surface to face the cruelty of the world again. But I always come up for air, reappearing as a small blip on the line between bliss and reality.

Nostalgia

You ever have those bits of nostalgia, just random frames from a past viewed through rosy lenses? I'm having quite the attack this morning - for a time I know was fairly tormented while I was living it, but in hindsight was one of the best times of my life. My only regret was that I didn't live freer, didn't let go of my ego and my preconditions. Hiking through mud and puddles that had transitioned into full-on ponds. Rigged rope ladders down perilous cliffs and encounters with wildlife rarely shared with anyone else. Running from tides and forceful driftwood, grabbing our dry clothes and bounding over the dunes to safety. Bocce Ball on a beach somewhere, waiting for breaks and chasing waves through the car window. Bonfires with NFA-er's, and sleeping in the SUV, only to wake up to sand and the most beautiful sunshine I've ever seen.

Rifts

I have this song stuck in my head from this morning - it's by The Killers and is the last song on the Sam's Town album, as well as the last song they play in concert. If we ever find ourselves in long conversations, you'll hear references to song lyrics and the like - but I'm not necessarily a music fanatic. I like what I like, and I love live music of most any kind (it's good for a Pisces' soul). I like quiet when I'm home - most of the time when I'm alone I don't have anything on, just so I can feel the solitude of the place. But when I'm out and about I love to have my headphones in and replace the monotony of the city with the melodies and musings of those much more eloquent than I. Maybe I look self absorbed, hiding in my own head, unconcerned with others and oblivious to my surroundings. Let them think it. The rhythm in my ears dictates the sight of their movements - so we're both thinking in mistaken terms, and equal in our misconceptions. And, for a change, it is not a violent prejudice that lasts - but one that is shrugged off by simply crossing the street and continuing across rifts, of the guitar variety, of course.

March on

Somehow, someway, it is March. My 25th birthday is hurdling toward me like a clumsy fastball, destined to strike with force no matter which way I dodge. The day after my quarter-century revelries marks my one year anniversary in this job. One year! The days and weeks whispered by, some in eloquent poetry, others in crass prose, but all without notice. I have neglected mindfulness for self pity and chosen apathy above appreciation.
Even before the New Year I resolved to actively grow into my potential over the next twelve months. I've started to make necessary changes in my physical health - the least painful place to start. Excuses have been replaced by interval training, and 'inner-aisle' foods with farmer's market fare. Now it's time to start renovating my inner self - a trying process that even the sorest of sore muscles could not hold a candle to.
It is time to reclaim my appreciation and begin again down the path of mindfulness. I must remember my compassion, and follow my path where ever it leads me regardless of how uncomfortable my new reality becomes. It is March already, and 25 is threatening to flatten me on it's high-speed pursuit of old age. But with any luck, and a lot more work, I will be able to approach 26 with months of grace and the pursuit of happiness steadily underway.