Profoundly Moved.
Elise said people are like art. She said that this morning. She wore her striped, knit brown pants and flower moccasins. I read her an excerpt from the letter I was writing. I was sitting on her Manitou Springs porch. It was late Sunday morning, fast approaching 11AM. The day was warm. The weather forecast predicted 61 degrees. March was beginning, spring slowly easing to life. (Will I be on the Appalacian Trail this time next year?) I read Elise the part of my letter to Kelsey Tuller where I questioned whether it was better to have one great love, a love that you pour every ounce of yourself into. I didn't say "pour every ounce of yourself into" but that's what I meant. I meant forming the kind of relationship that you can't bear to see fold, for seeing it fold would suck the breath out of you. Or. Was it better to love many, each in their own way, course, time, and place?
It is 10:20PM. I am too - afraid, nervous, scared, confused - to call the young man with whom I am in a relationship. Would he recoil at the term relationship? I'm not providing you with much context for that. I simply don't have the energy right now.
The menu music to the movie Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close plays again and again. I just finished watching it. I am in the loopy philosophical realm that comes after watching a good, inspirational film. A finished letter with Kelsey Tuller's name rests on the desktop space to my right.
"People are like art." Elise had smiled, fumbling to conjure all the beautiful artwork she had seen; attempting, with achieved eloquence, to explain her philosophy to me.
"Isn't there something to be said for the person who picks one piece of art and knows it more deeply, spends so much time with it, that they know that piece better than all other pieces in the world?"
Do we gravitate to the people who say what we need to hear?
Profoundly moved. Profoundly moved.
Profoundly moved.
The Biggest Baddest Bucket List. I look at the other entries. That is supposed to be one of my posts, you know. I am going to pick the top ten. My top ten. Am I in the running? To be honest, I couldn't yet say.
There are a lot of beautiful people connected to, leaning on, dreaming on that website. The Biggest Baddest Bucket List. I'd almost rather be on the giving side, but I am startled out of this notion quickly. You are the breaker and maker of whole futures.
Then again, that's everything. Every moment. You are the breaker and maker of futures. Did you stay up late typing nonsense on your teammate's borrowed black and decker laptop? You wake up late to work the next morning. You keep your crew waiting at the jail for 2 minutes longer than they would have otherwise. You had to pack a lunch; make that delay three minutes. There's a car accident. There's a homeless man on a street corner. You wait at the red light for one minute less. You arrive to the jobsite and there's a different song on the radio than there would have been had you not been late. This song is providing the ideal soundtrack to the movements of the squirrel outside.
Control. We are so thirsty for it, for understanding. For touching. What is the connection between these thirsts? I'm not sure I could tell you.
There's a lot I'm not sure I could tell you. Not for lack of wanting. Perhaps for lack of focus.
Losing myself in thought does you no good. I have no map, no working positioning system. Yet this blog has a purpose. I will let my purpose reveal itself and drive this post forward.
The Biggest Baddest Bucket List is an extraordinary opportunity. I want it. I want to make the most of it, should I be given that crumb sized chance at vast world exploration. Like many times when I find myself wanting, I want to want for nothing. I have such an extraordinarily full life.
When I pass away, I want my ashes to become the nutrients for a tree. I saw the concept in a Facebook post. They stick your ashes in a bucket made of organic this and organic that. You pick the tree. You provide the miracle grow.
It is time for bed, a time to say "Until we meet again," to my daydreams and, "Thank goodness, we meet again," to my night dreams.
Life: I haven't figured out all the intricacies, I assure you. But life was the biggest opportunity I never applied for - I intend to make it rich. One way or another.
Please vote for me by sharing my BBB profile. But if you don't? That's okay too. If the BBB folks chose me, I will be incredibly grateful - to see and experience a world I've had neither the money nor upbringing to see just yet.
There's a great adventure ahead - one way or the other - I sense it.
One Way or The Other,
Samantha
Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment