Monday, March 25, 2013

With my head in the clouds



Looking back into some of my old writings that I wrote in the heat of my nomadic adventures, and in the depths of a very sad season. I wrote, "I am not a planner." Hah. What has happened to me now? I am living the life that I wrote about here which scared me:

My life is not full of sorrows, but the sorrows I do see run very deep within me. Unbearably deep.
How do I justify, or how do I change?
I am not a planner, and part of me does not desire to be a planner. My stories come from going on a whim and rolling with the punches. Stories that can never be had anywhere else. To have looked out the window of many different trains, and slept under the roofs of countless homes. To have an adventure that only comes from sticking my head up in the clouds a little further I have realized that there’s a lot more up in those clouds than what every day practicalities try to let you know. 

Why am I broken? Because I need community? Because I need a back-up plan? Because I need stability? Well, how do I pair those with a wandering soul? How do I make them meet without disastrously colliding? Why must I sacrifice such a deep desire to enjoy my other desires? Is there a way? I need there to be a way.
The way I see it I am enhancing my life. I am enhancing my future. I am bringing enchantment to something I want to write about. I’m living a story. What’s wrong with it? I don’t feel enlightened when I am told what might be best for me. I feel stifled. With any way of life come great sorrows, fears. No one is one hundred percent stable. Something expensive breaks. A job is going south. There’s a fire, or death. Every life. Every journey. In mine, I have chosen to let go of certain things.
I don’t think you understand.
But really,  I want someone to understand.

I feel so deeply. My joys sky rocket beyond most. And my sorrows sink deep into  my soul’s abyss. No wonder I often feel misunderstood. I love my feelings. My deep feelings and my dramatic emotionalism. That’s the way it should be. Feel deeply. Let yourself feel deeply. When I am joyous I am really joyous. But when I am sad no one knows what to do with me. I bathe myself in tears. I understand- it’s overwhelming for someone who cares. I understand- I can be overwhelming. I don’t wish to be overwhelming. But I won’t give up my feelings. There is emotion that comes from beyond myself. Often times I don’t even understand it. Know this. When I am filled with joy and life, nothing is strong enough to penetrate it. It is contagious beyond a mere smile. It makes the sun shine. But I don’t take credit. It’s something outside of myself.
And know this. When I am sad, it is as though the dark ages have fallen on life once again. Tears seem abundant and endless. The rainfall on my heart is vast and covers much ground around me. Sometimes it feels hopeless because of how deeply contagious it is. I don’t wish to burden with my sadness, but there is something outside of me which makes me feel greatly. I could take guilt for imposing on my community in such a way, but I really see it as a great gift. 

I love colors, and deep contrast. Perhaps because they understand me. I mirror them. We get each other. Now, peering out the window of this train and seeing the vastness of the prairies, the silos, and quiet lives, there is one thing that sings to my heart. I see a blanket of snow covering the farms. Sprouting through is a patch of tall, red, vibrant prairie grass. It sings to my soul; the color pushing out of the colorless; the life overcoming the death; the vastness of each, the importance of each, and the beauty of each- next to each other. Beyond what it seems, they are not at odds with each other. They are working together, singing to the dark night of my soul.