Hibernating since last October, I am hushed in my being. A chrysalis surrounds my internal wonder leaving me feeling uncertain, unimaginative, and out of place.
'I need to stop moving so that I may process my life...' I said. 'Why put the reigns on exploring?' I asked in response to myself. 'To fit into the appropriate place of life-' I snapped back, mentally criticizing and aware of how I am tough on myself.
Thinking something critically damaging doesn't feel good. What does 'appropriate' mean in this instance? What am I comparing myself to? And what value does comparing have? And what other story is even comparable to mine? There is no competition.
Focus. What if I sit still, and quietly focus on my breath? How do all of my life experiences leave me feeling unaccomplished? The vacancy sign burnt out.
I used to have more words.
noW trying to draft a pHilosophy, i am rEvisiting old paRagraphs of minE hoping to find A seMblance of myself. perhaps my mInd needs to forgive my heart?
What did I do before- (well it was different then) -what do I do now with what I know?
I don't know the utility of myself.
Formula
girl + access to a major metropolitan area = an impetus to be and become
variables: mental demand, physical demand, move fast, habitually tired
Is busy, productive? How do I qualify significance?
let's try the mountains
girl + the rural mountains =
variables: slower, less people, less demand, more time? safe feeling
I know I am shifting. The leaves are falling and rustling. I trust this truth to be temporary.
Evolutionary.
Like a poem. A dancer, a painter, an athlete, an actor, a singer, a writer, a model, a teacher. Free to play. Symphonic imagination. Monumental thought. Writing artfully. Reflection from great perspective. Convergence of insightful visions. To shift and seek. To reach and discover. To the city connecting those who are aware and listening. To inspire wholly. To redefine and consider. To enjoy. To participate. To emerge.
