June 29, 2014


I wish there was a movie about my life. This isn't the ego talking. I merely want to see those sights in front of me again. I have lived fantasies. And they were real. I swam in fields of sunshine and danced with fireflies in bell jars. Stars were the closest they've ever been since.

I recon my childhood and adolescence were magical because I used to talk to it. I would sing to the moon and wish on stars. I'd just pick a different one the next night if it didn't come true. I'm persistent. In that persistence there must be a belief in magic, don't you think? You've gotta believe in something greater in order to keep trying.

I've lived through some wonderful things. I have amazing pictures of how it all felt. The music is great. Even the tougher times just bounced me off to the next round of fantastic. In the moment I suppose I was always asking questions. Where is this headed? What does this mean? What's the purpose?

Somewhere, I stopped talking to the starts and it all faded into a deep part of me. I chalked it up to hazy LA skies and young girl fantasies. I also know that I do still live the same way. I take pictures in my head during sunsets and laughter. I still wish. I just stopped living with that at the forefront of me.

I realized tonight. It all came back to me in a rush, you see. It's been years since I've let myself be loved. Like truly loved. I've been surviving. Putting other things in front of love. When all along, love has to go first because it's what makes everything else come alive. The list resolves itself when there's love. I had forgotten. Afraid of where it had left me or maybe where i left it.

I'd give anything to sit on a dock with a jar of lightning bugs. To not know what to do with so many stars to choose from. I couldn't see them and so believed they weren't there anymore. That I had used up my wishes and the dark sky explained it. There I was, behind those clouds.

I used to read poetry on the top floor of my university library. The best view in the city. Above the pressures. The horizon and Whitman made sense to me. I felt like myself most in those moments. I'd read for hours and not crack open the macroeconomics book. See, the answers to the big picture framework for me, were found on that floor. Life had melody and rhythm up there; those books understood me better than calculus did. it just made sense and I felt alive.

I had forgotten.

To be me.

I forced business and economies and duties for so long that I had forgotten about the ease of love. I even forced love instead of gracefully dancing with it and letting it come to me. I saw it and deemed it to be without letting it be on its own. I dismantled love.

I'm here broken open. Like lightning on a hot southern night. In despair enough ; shattered and quilted back together to know that nothing else matters. Ego is only a road that leads you to lessons so that it can challenge you to cry uncle.  Ego thinks it won because you surrendered. But you're smarter. You released it in your glory. You don't need it. You've got you. You've got magic. You are surrounded by stars and are made up of love. You are majestic and wiser beyond the infinite horizons. Your dance with life is waiting. Go ask. Go grab. Go!

So my movie? It's getting to the part where it gets great. Where it's not just the thrill of the high. It's the magic coming alive because it's seen. It's the goosebumps and all encompassing love that fills you with such a big breath your heart touches the sky. It's the part where it all comes together. The purpose reveals itself a bit more and you know you're exactly where you need to be. And exactly who you want to be.

Saying 'yes'. I see. I see it now.
Do you?

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