I do it to myself - sometimes. I'm always on the road.
Hardly ever home.
Always busy this, busy that.
Can't talk on the phone.
And while I haven't totally found my zen, I'm starting to feel the pulse of it, once again. As expected, life is full of ebbs and flows; the paradigms of falling in love with your Self, your city, your new beau, yourself again. Realizing that somewhere in between it all lies the balance. The truth. The love of it all and the knowing that running free does come with a high price but it's worth it. And so is learning how-to run, while holding someone else's hand.
A stranger told me that you have to be one with life.
What is it that I crave in every small moment of each new day? How can I be boundless and bound to nothing but my intentions, which are to love. I'd rather rise with the sun, follow trails that lead to views I didn't imagine existed before, and jump head-first into challenging love to be present in all things around me. I'd like to move in clothing that feels like poetry throughout my home, my succulent garden, my sidewalk stroll. I want to feel and wear everything or
nothing. To unwind and undo my shoe-
laces. To take off the bra I didn't want to wear in the first place and be still on a rooftop.
To really run-away when the city gets a little too loud, when all I want to do is hear his voice and protect our magic.
Last week, around noon. When I’d made a smoothie and listened to jazz on the roof. Weekday headaches but it felt like summer, so I didn’t mind. When I wore my sneakers for one full week and didn’t change out of my blue jeans, once. I remembered what feeling-so-free really felt like.
So comfortable in my footing. Blocks that once felt like quicksand, became easier to walk along. Did it start with jazz and new sneakers?
I’d say so. Running free does come with a price and it just might start with your shoes,