I’m not really sure what to tell you guys.
As some of you (may) have noticed, I’ve been gone for several months. Each passing Monday I think about my #MotivationMondays and how much I miss writing them. Every single Monday. That’s like 11 Mondays. But anyway, the truth is, I haven’t been feeling like I’m qualified to write them. I don’t want to be hypocritical.
I’m in an unstable place in my life. Who isn’t at some point? I’ve just needed some time to collect myself. For anyone out there who may read my posts, and for anyone who may care, I will be back. I’ve started to feel the fight in me making its way back into my heart.
I guess I’ll just share with you something I wrote somewhat recently that explains everything/nothing:
I have a thirst
far and fast and free
that even I can’t
that is why I’m running.
Today’s post is going to be short and sweet. I tend to be fluent in the language of over-analysis, but I want to stick with succinctness this time around. When I began writing, I was 6 years old (I really mean when I began), and I was partial to poetry. In the first grade, I wrote my first poem called “Rushing Winds.” It sounds better than it was. I do think I was a particularly deep thinker as a child, but… I mean, what could my mind really have been on? I’ll tell you: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Lincoln Logs. Best days of my life right there. Well, maybe simplest. Anyway, I’m going back to my roots a bit. Here’s a poem I wrote a few weeks ago called “Arbitrary” (not fully revised yet… may or may not happen):
Sometimes my eye catches
in the daysky.
And I long to leave–
Leave sadness disappointment anger–
All of everything
is out there.
All of nothing
is out there.
I’m worried about
getting to work a minute late.
**In my notebook, I wrote this down next to the poem: “The mystery of everything is out there, and yet we confine ourselves to this country, this region, this city, this person, this thought, this arbitrary task. Don’t people see how big life is and how small day-to-day tasks can be?” Maybe that will help explain. Maybe I just ruined the fun of figuring out the poem. I guess this magician reveals her secrets.