Life Doesn't Choose Us

The light, it dances. It bursts and flows through the field. The flowers turn their faces towards the sun.

We are free, children dancing in the grove. 

For so long we forgot how to play. Our memories remind us and it feels better than before. We can't help our bursting souls—so we fly. This is heaven, our waking melody.

We learned early on that we are not chosen. Life spins and spins in selfish circles, never asking who we are.

So we pack our bags and sail away. Deep into the night we go, following only stars. Love guides our feet, pulls us along. 

We’re deep now, buried in the woods. Magic swallows us whole. 

With every sunrise and holy night, we age 100 years. Our days have meaning once more. We dance and dance and dance, never afraid to live again. 

Promises from the Sea

The roar of the rip current catches me by surprise; I lose my breath. 

The foamy sea surrounds me, threatening to devour once again. I embrace for impact. My limp body is still recovering from the last beating. The drowning sensation, now so familiar to my lungs, creeps in. I’m a rag doll, helpless as the walls close in.

It’s dark, but I can see the light from beneath the waves. It allures me, begging me to resurface on my own. I have no power here. 

I close my eyes, hard, forcing out the tiniest sliver of sun, surrendering to the world around me. My mind drifts, wondering why I so foolishly left safety at the shore. I dream myself back there, on the warm sand. The shore is solid, predictable even. It promises neither life nor death, but safety. 

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These Brick Walls

I’m already forgetting. My vision blurs over and my eyes fill with tears as I scroll through the feed of photos.

I touch the tiny pictures on the screen, trying to reach through and will myself to that now distant place. I squeeze my eyes shut.

What did it feel like—the dirt beneath my boots and my whole life on my back? How did it taste—the language stuttering off my tongue and the fresh air kissing my lips?

I can’t remember anymore.

My returned life is so full with electronics and emails and work grinds. The hustle. The resumes. The paychecks. The short-lived, empty conversations. The anxiety that sits below the surface of the city air, demanding us all to move faster, faster, faster. Something waits for us, they promise. I’m not sure what.

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Take Me to the Mountains

Life is so full, at times. Coffee, Eat, Work, Sleep, Repeat. It goes on and on, repeating itself. You either run the mill or break out of the cycle. Most keep chugging along like a train destined for no where.

Every time I try to step away, something pulls me back into the dark hole of the grind. It whispers, Keep striving, keep hustling. You are no one unless your name is known. Prove yourself. It sucks me in. I ignore the sirens and red lights, racing past the warning signs. Eager to please; to be heard and known and loved by people I don’t even know.

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Clearing My Antennas: How to Know What's Next After a Year of Traveling

“You need to clear your antennas,” she says.

I sit cozied into an antique armchair, my feet swinging off to the side; the faux fire heating my toes. I hug my warm coffee mug to my chest.

We’ve only been back in Colorado one week since taking a year to backpack around the globe. The cold, spring weather feels like a refreshing swim. I welcome cozy sweaters after months in Central America’s humidity and heat.

“I can’t see what’s next,” I whisper. “I feel like I always have some sort of direction in life, but not this time. It’s like staring at a concrete wall. I don’t know what to do.”

One of my dearest friends, she stares back at me. Her kids play with puzzles on the floor and the youngest burrows in her lap. Having ten years on me, I scan her face, invoking some of her wisdom.

“You need to clear your antennas,” she repeats. 

How though? I wonder.

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