October 10, 2011

turbulence

there has been a lot going on lately, and I've been struggling to figure out how to write about it, or, for that matter, if I want to write about it at all. the last week or two have been full: of meaning, of learning, of forgiveness, of longing, of worry, of hope. of compassion and love. some of it I've talked about; some of it I haven't. can't. won't.

I guess here is something I can say. I'm so very much not the same person I was on august 1. it continues to surprise me how quickly a person can alter herself. on august 1 I had a live-in boyfriend, was loafing away the last of my summer, was homesick and depressed and sad, lost, stuck. I did not know what I had. I did not think I would lose it. and I could not see a way out.

now, I've learned what it is to lose the thing you didn't know you loved most. I've learned a thing or two about friendship -- a lesson I seem to always learn most in times of great sorrow. I've discovered how much people will give you if you let them, if you just open your hands and take it. I've discovered how much easier it is to give back.

today, out running in the rain, the smell of everything was amplified. bark mulch, tree branches, asphalt. the world smelled good. I hadn't wanted to run -- so grey, so wet, so gloomy -- but once I got outside I discovered it wasn't so bad. it was actually pretty warm, and misty, not raining. and then, the world presented me with this little olfactory gift. I ran sprints down the length of the floating bridge on the east side, and on the west side I took the steps two at a time.

I fear returning to the person I was on august 1. she had everything I want right now, but she didn't know it. it's mind-blowing to think of it that way, actually. maybe it goes to show how much has changed, that if you gave to me today everything I had on august 1, I could not imagine wanting for a single other thing.

if you offered me everything I had before, it would be the greatest gift I can possibly imagine. I would break into tears of joy.

I said to a certain someone just after the breakup that I wished I could time travel, to tell myself what was about to happen, to save everything. I also wished that there was a future me, a happy me, who also was wishing she could time travel, so that she could come back and tell me it would all be okay. truth be told, I still wish for both things. these days I'm somewhere in the middle, I suppose. these days, if you could fly me back, I would hold that girl's hand and say, "you must learn to open your eyes and see what it is you've got right here, all around you. things are so much more beautiful than you realize; you have to learn to recognize what's right in front of you." I would say, be kinder, be gentler, be patient. take a breath. open your heart.

life right now is pretty overwhelming. a lot of things are nebulous and intensely personal. they don't involve only me. people I love are hurting and lost, and it's hard to know how to help them. some days I'm overcome by the force of my own emotions, and I scramble all over myself to figure out how to cope. there's a lot going on -- rehearsals, deadlines, the changing weather, the dying garden, the horse, the running, the injury (ever present), money, time, energy. many plates, few hands. dealing with the turmoil is, in some moments, all-consuming. I can't tell you how much I yearn, in some moments, for the force of my love for my people to be able to knock down walls, to bridge gaps, to close distances. to heal wounds. to bring forgiveness and hope. all we can do, though, is pour love into the cracks and wait.

as for the future self I still wish for; well, that hasn't changed at all. I still want her to tell me it will all work out; that love will find a way.

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