Cold weather winterized laughter. Laughter is ringing through the trees. Some days like May that want to call themselves today will wander aimlessly through the bundle of your brains.
Jamie had night terrors last night and it was the most horrifying thing.
Today is my last day of being 25 and that is a strange thing. The strangest year, the most full, the most radiant and changing. Thick, tough, disarming, wild, cantankerous. And I really don’t give a shit what people think of my story anymore. My story is my own and they have no idea what strange potholes I had to fall through to get here. But I got here and I am grateful for the pain that brought me to this rediscovery of myself. I am grateful for the sorrow and the disillusionment that allows me to see clearer. I am grateful for the wind that blew me down the river, for now I know how to paddle. I know how to wade, how to wait, how to float, and how to take steps towards flight. I know how to run. And no one gives you permission enough to do that, sometimes. Sometimes, when it is necessary…you have to give up. And that is ok. That is not failure. That is releasing yourself. And finding yourself. Listening to that silent call buried deep inside your ribcage and being courageous enough to follow in that direction. To piece together the pieces to imagine which way to go. In the hope of hope. I feel brave, I feel empowered, I feel accomplished and most of all, I feel more like myself than I have in years. I feel happier now, more in line with what I actually am and what I actually want…and I don’t feel like I failed in the slightest. Not even a little bit. I am on this journey and I am doing the best I can. We jab in the dark, make the decisions that we can in the moments that we can, based on the trillion firings of neurons that bound us this way and that for all sorts of preconceived reasons and ideas. This is the way this journey unfolded. To bring me through the woods, to wisk me around the train stop, and to send me on the back of an elephant back a new home I never knew I didn’t belong to yet. I can only follow my feet where they are walking and I am not ashamed of a single step I have walked. They are all part of what is bringing me here. And here now. And here now. And there now. And there again. And back to here. Different, older, more experienced, more thoroughly walked. I am grateful for the wisdom that crawls into the divets in my skin. These are the stories I get to carry, the experience I get to wrap around my waist, the thorough living I get to own. Nothing is a mistake, or a failure. This is a life, not an arrow shot at a bullseye. This is a whirlpool – just try to swim against it, why don’t you?
Quicksand and fire, send me on my way again.
I am grateful for this fuckery of a year.
Let me cultivate more fire. To give light to my shadows, and to give shadows to my silence.