There Is Something Out There

silhouette-of-woman-standing-by-window-looking-out

 

There was an invitation into a new world lingering in the midst of her thoughts. Hidden pieces of new beginnings were showing themselves whenever she peaked through the cracks in her patience. There were clues scattered across the maps on her bedroom wall, maps on her bedroom floor showed her she could have the whole world at her feet. Somewhere outside the clean cut edges of her perfect life an adventure was calling out her name. The tall walls that staved off want grew into shades of grey that teased her wanting curiosity, a prison of propriety.

At first the fear took her by surprise, it unsettled her palate, she couldn’t swallow the notion of breaking the status quo. Before the outbreak of wanderlust, there was never a good enough reason to distrust the comforts she had come to know. Fine dining and freedom to spend, vacationing in the summer, five star retreats to hidden corners of the country. The world was gift wrapped for her personal consumption, yet every bite of the tailored dream failed to feed her appetite for living.

Away from the sequined dream, maybe she could drape herself in memories. She could trade the tapered heels, made for pedicured toes, for broad roads that didn’t fight her toes for comfort. The souls of her feet could feel the virgin trails of tomorrow that couldn’t care less for the latest shade of acceptance she’d painted on. She could learn that there is  plenty of room for her curious feet to stretch themselves out into undiscovered pieces of paradise. Maybe, just maybe,  she wouldn’t have to starve her spirit to squeeze into each seasons picture of beauty. Maybe she could eat her fill and feel no shame in feeding her heart.

Folding pieces of her life into her carry on luggage was an exercise in strength. Peeling through  the contents of her chest of drawers was a stark reminder of the world she was leaving behind. Leafing through her closet, weeding out outfit after outfit that would never feel at home away from the runways of her old life was enough to shake her ease. Weighing up time spent building this old life to the immediacy of its disappearance was enough to lead her to question the decision.

“What will they say?” She thought “They will call me crazy.”

She folded her last fabric of worry away and hoisted her enthusiasm onto her shoulders. She waved her way into her new adventure eager to learn her preferred shades of paradise. The world stretches itself wide enough to show her new ways to wear the emotions she thought she knew, new ways to wear her smile and new ways to fill the walk in closets of her mind with experiences tailored to her, no one size fits all when no mannequin can match the shape of your comfort. The set menus of luxury are gone now, she has the power to tailor her dining experience, feeding her heart and nourishing that organs that sprout the fruits of her truest intention. She was foolish to have doubted the calls to adventure.

 

The truth is that no dream, watered down by the trickling whispers of the crowd, will touch your lips with the sweetness once heavy in its touch. Once the notion ripens at the branches of your heart, sample its flesh unashamedly and allow your tongue to speak honestly of the sweetness there. You’ve pinned your smiles on the sleeves of others for long enough, how often will a round of applause be the sole reason your see fit to smile. You have enough living inside your heart to live twice over before waking up to a life spent. Don’t hurry to raise walls that slight the sight of sunsets and call it safety. Quiet resentment isn’t an acquired taste, flavour your soul accordingly.

Are you ready for your call adventure?

 

Blissful Nomad

 

 

 

Jump 

There is no one there to catch me, but I would love to learn to fly. My eyes, playing along the loose edges of certainty, cliff faces and curbs, I’m courting a potent notion with intentions of taking flight. A featherless free fall that could grant a taste of freedom.

Leap!

How fine I’d feel, untethered from any holding onto earth. I have no desire to be held captive by these footprints beneath my feet. I’ll make my mark then leap, liberated in glorious flight until gravity decides otherwise. She is the stubborn voice intent on foiling any escape.

I Leap anyway!

I can’t begin to count the takes offs that didn’t make, the break ups she couldn’t take, you see gravity is a crude lover who just won’t take “No” for an answer. She pulls at me with every leap, I feel her begging for my decent. I’ve  learned to time my leave from her, I heave myself from ever knowing her and count the feet until we meet again. It’s a tiresome dance that I endure until my legs have spent there strength, there is no excuse to settle for the prisons of stale foot prints.

Leap!

Inside these lofty bounds I see the power of possibility. My heart flutters around my chest, intoxicated with pure adrenaline. The never knowing has grown addictive, it has nurtured a readiness to fail. Now  I always look and leap, this way I can see her embraces coming. I never know the tangibility of a dream until the leap confirms it’s fullness. I could speculate and spectate but that’s is how mysterys stand untested.

So I Leap!

At my footings edge there lies a world of questions only bravery can answer. There are no new answers to these in the well worn tracks of comfort. I constantly test my courtship with certainty at the edges of reason, leaping into the haze to confirm the mystery of my possibilities.

Life is too short to settle for the prisons of stale foot prints.

Leap

The Fast 

Hearty handfuls of everything here and now have well and truly clouded the system. Arteries are thick with the residues of satisfaction. The breath is now shallow. Tasting the sweetness of now has stolen from a true enjoyment of the atmosphere. The peripheral mind atrophies when it’s allowed to dwindle in the somber swirls of comfort. The obesity of malcontent hasn’t been an issue to the body well suited to the wasted patch of immediacy.
Starve the ego, let it drain its own energies with the complaints it’s more than ready to deposit, but too cowardly to withdraw from. Sometimes that lethargy needs to meet its match. Fast, sweat out the evil seeds. Something offers itself up when the slate is wiped clean.
Don’t act as though you’ve never though about it. You washed up on the shores of your greatest dreams and found yourself prisoner to the harbour. The helm of your vessel was too sweet a temptation to touch on the uninterrupted forest that lines the coast. The vessel isn’t a bad omen or an enemy to your voyage so far. It kept you in good stead, when the waves were peaking over the bow and testing the firmness of your journey it was there for you. Your ship held fast, though you were lost and wondering, it kept you far enough above the swim to afford you breath. Beaching on the coast was a blessing and a curse, you haven’t found your Atlantis, but el dorado is within reach.
Burn that cask of fermented thought, let the plumes of distress signal in your intent to be the next brave soul to wonder “what if?” and journey far enough to find an answer.
Fast.
Sweat away the labours of your fears and give in to the little spark of effervescence that weened you off the shores of the other world and into the tumultuous sheet of adventure you survived, to make a home on the shores of possibility.
I can never promise safety. If I did you’d be unamused by such a sterile venture. You have managed to conquer the seas of uncertainty and found a new adventure. The new night that shrouds your courage illuminates when you are brave enough to part with the match sticks that steal from the wonder of the naked stars.
Adventure is calling. Fast your heart, mind and body. Weed out the impurities, allow the garden of your true potential a fighting chance to sprout wonders.

Writing 101, Day One: Unlock Your Mind

Daily post have kindly brought back Writing 101. As usual, I’m a day behind, None the less I will be tucking into the delicious feast of prompts on offer for the blogging U. Day one was a task in free writing. We had to let words fall on to paper for 20 minutes and post whatever came out. Dangerous concept, but a beautiful freeing writing practice. Here is what my mind had to say when I let it loose. It’s all bitter and I did a brief sweep, but it’s still all very raw. 

 

Imagine an open field, you got it? Great, now imagine it early in the morning, real quiet like. There is a thin fog hovering over, not the menacing type, you know the one I mean, horror movie, Halloween type fog. It was just a real easy, laid back fog, the sun can cut through it real nice. It makes a cool little curtain against the round hills off in the distant. 

Now picture waking up to this, not from a bed, just kind of waking up all of the sudden and looking out at everything, you see the fog, you feel the wet grass on your toes and you see the sun just working it’s way through the cool, laid back fog curtain. That’s kinda how I picture every great adventure starting. Right at the start of the day, with a fog slowly peeling away to show what’s ahead. It’s an awesome idea, and it kinda fits perfectly with the fairy tales. 

Learning that sleeping damsels in great castles with fiery dragons might have edged towards an exaggeration, I still respected that. I grew to learn though, that it isn’t as glamorous when we take our own adventures and have to slay the dragons waiting for us there. 

I killed a dragon once, it had these mammoth scales, great big things, the size of a full grown man, it teeth that were tainted red, I immediately assumed it was blood. It’s fire was blistering, it was thick, hot and, imaginary. My dragon was a mindset, “You will never be able to…”The mighty cry of the scaly nemesis. There was an adventure to embark on, but I never knew I would meet my dragon, right at the first step, as in looking out ahead to track a map to the first check point, and there it is, staring right at me. I was scared, but I saw people out there, past the dragons, so that means it could be done right? Not many people were out that far, but they were out there. Some people had slain the dragons, others whistled some songs they learned, carried trinkets, puffed up there chests and walked bravely past the dragons. Maybe the dragons didn’t see them when they looked brave, maybe that was the secret, or maybe the dragon saw them, pretended not to see, waited until they were too far to hide and got them then, I don’t know. 

Dad kept an old sword on the table in his study, took me forever to sharpen that crippled piece of iron, my knees knocked and my voice creaked as I hoped to sing little songs to lift the fear from around my neck. 

I took far too long to work on that sword, but I guess doing a small bit everyday until it was done, made me strong enough to carry it.

With the Blade sharpened to an amateur finish, I woke up to that open field, with the cool laid back fog in the air and the wet grass at my feet. I watched the dragon floating down, a mighty silhouette against the newly risen sun. I was breathing deeply feeling the hilt of the old sword in the palms of my hands, heavy and firm. I swinging it wildly and listenin to the jagged edges cutting awkwardly in the wind as I finally confront my dragon. The dragon drew in closer an closer until the steel of the jagged blade stopped suddenly. There was a moan and a grunt, a thick wetness surrounded the grass around me. 

My dragon was dead, the little boy, with the old sword could finally see the cool laid back fog, drifting away. I had never thought of life past the dragon, everything was new again. Another little fear, a near unnoticed fear nibbled at me, whispered it’s poison

“it’s a long way off?” 

“how will you eat?” 

“home, how will you make it back home?” 

Home is where the heart is, I will take my heart with me to the furthest end of that trail. 

Notes from Paranoia: DIY

“It’s so silly, it just might work” Said the non existent voice in my head!

Just my luck, It worked!! It worked very well the first time, went as swimmingly the second time. In fact, it continued it’s hot streak through the next 7 times that followed the third. All hands on deck!! There is a breach in my minds reality!!

Defying expectations is a blessing and a curse, a double edged sword that cuts swiftly through a poorly constructed picture of reality. Apart from dealing out a refreshed look at life, leaving you feeling like the protagonist who discovers his power of flight, It can also feel very much like discovering a broken egg in the midst of unpacking your groceries. Stay with me here! It’s not the worst thing to happen, but annoying none the less, you can’t help but frantically turn over every egg in search for anything else that’s broken, and anything that isn’t as it should be. Having been right for so long, it’s understandable to doubt the standards by which we measure plausibility when we, ourselves, defy what we thought to be right. When we take a step into the grey areas of our minds and suddenly see turquoise and green, the questions cry out in cannon. Crying out in cannons and muskets of what ifs and whys waging war on the mind frame that proved it’s self… Inadequate.

It goes without saying that we all look at life through different lenses. Similar situations morph under individual perspective. This lens is bent and moulded by the route life takes us through, every now and then life throws us a little something new and updates our prescription.

PARANOIA
“Manners don’t cost?! The concept offends me!! Because I’ve known the truth, I’ve felt the truth!! The fear of offending the soft and hard edges gives them permission to solidify, and balloon irrationally. Only serving to cripple those curious toes that will teach you more than those arrogant books. The scholars implied fire could burn, the hot embers just screamed at me. They scream at me!! I can still hear them now…. Never again”