The Window Seat

This isn’t a blog. I’m not sure what it is. A lyric? A poem? And essay? Not sure, but a dear friend of mine said I should share. You know who you are ❤

Looking out over the earth. It’s so vast. I think I could stare forever. The clouds – so many different shapes and textures. So inviting, the floating white pillows, suspended in the air. I remember looking at them as a child. I used to think I could jump on them, like a trampoline in the sky and if I jumped high enough, I might touch the stars. I wish I never learned that they’re just water in a vaporized form and that if I jumped on them, I’d probable freeze and fall straight through them down to the earth.

The earth- the landscape. The mountains and valley, the trees and lakes. So many shades of greens, browns, and blues. So small from up here, I wonder how much of the barren land hasn’t been touched. How there are probably so many crevices and cracks on the earths surface that have yet to be explored. I wonder what it is about exploring new territory that is so fascinating to my mind. Like turning little lights on in my mind.

The lights. The little flickering lights from the little homes on the little roads in the little towns. I think of how many people live on this earth together. How many separate lives there are. How many different stories and personalities and life lessons that have been learned. I think of how we all live on this earth together, yet we’re separate. Solo paths. We’re all on our separate journeys, that happen to cross with other people’s separate journey’s along the way. Each a teacher to one, and student to another. I wonder what else I’m supposed to learn. I’ve learned a lot already. I wonder why I’m only 25 but think about what it means to die every other day. I wonder why some people ponder these things, and why some people just don’t. I think I know the answer already. Not everyone has a physical disease to force them to think about their inevitable immortality. I waver back and forth between being jealous of peoples’ naiveness, and being thankful for my experiences with adversity. I wonder if I’m on my last life. Closer to pursuing my purpose.

I wonder if practicing yoga really is bringing me closer to love. That’s kind of the goal, isn’t it?  I can admit it’s mine. I think it is – bringing me closer. I think love is what’s healing me. It’s just slow. Wish I could take a love pill. But I feel love in most days I live. In the morning air, my lungs, the songs I listen to. In hugs. I feel open. I feel free – most of the time. I feel good and I choose to see good. I’m thankful. I’m learning what it means to really truly whole heartedly, love myself. All aspects of myself. I smile to myself. Why did it take so long?

I wonder why I’m so open? Fuck it. No one has to read any of the shit I write.

The plane starts descending. I’ve spent the whole flight looking out of the window. I watched the sky change all different colors, until it became dark. I wonder what else I could have done with my time. Should I have read my book? Listened to a podcast? I think it doesn’t matter. I think the time spent looking out a window, in a car or in a plane, is one of my favorite activities. Unless I could jump on clouds.

 

 

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