as I put it to kristin the other day, I feel like I could flick my fingers and see sparkles come flying off the ends of them. I'm exploding with yes and zen and now and touch. I'm eating less and sleeping less and taking pictures of smokestacks at sunset out the car window. I'm crackling and overflowing and awake and alive.
as I sit here at work, putting together a mailer and being blown away by every song on kexp, I just have to take a break to write. I have to take a break to write - do you know how long it's been since that was a need? this is how it felt at nineteen, finding little spots to write where the coffee was good and the lights were dim (specifically, cutting school to have an XL house at the daily around 8 am), searching museum listings for exhibits and clubs for shows and the local theaters for movies that the mainstream missed. problem being then that I got in my own way and forgot about what was important, not every time but enough of the time that it got messy and I lost myself somewhere along the way - although I've somehow managed to land on my feet in such a way that I am positively sure that I'm exactly where I should be. aforementioned messiness and all.
this is a total trip. I'm dying to be saturated, like the sponge dried up on the counter just waiting for fresh warmth and some bubbles. I'm laughing and free and giggling to myself for no reason at all.
somewhere in the last few months I peaked out with editing myself. with speaking mostly how I felt, writing little or not at all, and staying in places (literally and figuratively) that just weren't right and I tried to keep convincing myself it was everything other than the elephant that was sitting on my chest. waiting. and I spoke aloud, about everything, even though it was terrifying. and I bought a blue notebook for two bucks and sat in the window of the cafe next door to work and wrote about it. all of it. and the rush of current that followed, the span of coincidences and fresh air and freedom that came was (and continues to be) terrifying and delicious all at once.
and there's been this strange development in me - this weird little thing a friend of mine calls consciousness, and another friend calls intuition, and yet another calls being on the beam. when I amplify that little voice that I denied for so long, what follows amazes me... I'm drawn to places and people and things and of late I've been speaking with such honesty but worded in a way I didn't know I could. I'm starting to really get in touch with who I am and what I need (and don't) and where I want to be (and don't) and when I'm not sure, I'll sit still - and I'll take the chance if it just can't wait - and less and less is slipping by. and I have these awesome little moments, a song in the background at just the right time, or not being able to buy the book I wanted on two or three different occasions and having it show up in my mailbox. and more and yes and please don't let this song end because it just might be the most perfect moment of my life.
I don't want to die from the what ifs and maybe I should haves and even as short as six months ago I was on my way. when I hit that pivotal point, finally, I threw my arms open to just embrace that current and I hurt a few people but I thrilled more (including myself) and now it won't turn off. my insides and outsides are starting to mesh. I'm not hiding anymore. and I owe such tremendous amounts of gratitude that I couldn't possibly find the words to thank one person in particular, who survived the battles with me and of late has been coaxing me out of my foxhole.
but maybe I just did.
and as I finish the edit, I receive my daily haiku, and realize I am one, about which the site says "like a laptop computer, a haiku is a miracle of compression" and so