From a Lake at Midnight

and it is in these days that blend together - that seem and feel and look painfully too similar, that i've started to learn.

for the first time in my life, ever, i've started to feel a new pull inside of me. something is growing there, something that needs to emerge and that i know will emerge. for the first time in my life, i am experiencing what i believe is a pull towards spirituality - towards acknowledging and putting faith in something deeper than the every day blur.

i don't know if this is a result of unplugging a bit from technology (okay, the HBO show True Blood has been taking up the vast majority of my free time, but in retrospect, my "free time" is roughly 3 hours a day, if that). i don't know if it's the fact that my life feel very monotonous and repetitive, and that as a result, i am learning to find things between the lines. i don't know if it's because i met someone and it was once again, too good to be true. it may be because i am suddenly out of touch with most of my once closest friends, and not by choice (& i am beginning to get tired of waiting, hanging on, wondering, making the phone calls...).

whatever it is, i do feel a big change occurring inside of me. a step towards something. i feel as if i have finally started down a path i've never dared venture - the path of getting to know Myself. Once and for all.

on friday night, i sat beneath tiny bulb lights listening to jazz notes, letting a beautiful boy hold my hand in his. his hands were warm and i noticed how small mine looked in his. i felt magical. he pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and told me to write about the Now. i hastily scribbled something in nearly illegible handwriting about trying to hear what lies between the spaces in each note. i felt silly. at set break, we sat on the trunk of his car and looked for the stars, except there weren't any because it was cloudy, and he began reciting Rilke from memory. (yeah, this one really caught my attention).

we then drove to an overview of a lake. it was midnight. it was just us. us two, side by side, the lake, and the trees, and the night and the star-less sky, and our breath clouds rising into the night. we just stood and stared, and that was probably the moment i realized that in the midst of my day to day sameness, void of visible change or promise of light at the end of the tunnel, i have matured - and i am learning how to live in the moment.

because there was nothing more still and more clear to me in that moment - the stilled ground, the still dark, my breath so evident and so crystal clear. it was as if we were the last people on earth. i was reminded that in the midst of the daily grind, i'm still alive and living and my mind is still flowing.

i needed that reminder.

& what's more, it was so beautiful to experience this stillness with another human being. & he knew it too. we will be forever interconnected in this way, in this sort of silent understanding we both had of each other and the night. we are both locked in this moment in time (& i think it's so sad that we cut ourselves off from one another via various technological means). we are all so close, yet we keep one another at such a distance (i will write more on this later). it was so nice to be.


the days might be blending together, but i know now that i am growing more distinct, more sharply outlined against the future, whatever and wherever it is.