Every Other Memory

I ran into someone I used to know recently. All the things left unsaid and chilling breezes from open doors caved into the warmth of memories.

Our paths may never cross again. Another moment will fade into an edited memory. The wind will change direction. But, in that moment I knew I was exactly where I was suppose to be. In that moment I was in sync.

We don't choose who to love. We choose how to feel the rarity of its devour. We choose to make room for what words can't define. We choose to let it cripple our thoughts. We choose to surrender to what can't be said. We choose to foster, carefully tendering to those harmonic  connections.

Embrace the openness. The behind, the forward, the now. Relish in the thought of the unsung tale. Leave the closure pleas, late night remembrance fights, mind battles and self inflicted gavel symphonies.Wrap yourself in heavenly comforts and stand in doorways and on windowsills and horrific ledges. We don't choose who to make memories with. We choose who to place in our fairytales.

You are a story made up of pieces of all you long to forget. Pieces sown together by uncontrollable gifts.

Pay attention. Listen to everything pouring into your heart, gut, mind, soul. Listen with every inch full of curiosity. Remember colors and lyrics and middle names. Send love notes on dateless anniversaries. Be needy and grateful and ridiculous. Hold on to the frames. Take imaginary snapshots out of focus. Attract the finger tips and lingering stares of the radiation behind undeniable smiles. Be drawn to connect in split seconds. Linger. Stare. Cling to those fateful moments.

Choose to pay attention.

Release yourself from the version of a path you tragically navigate your intuition towards. Turn off your spinning head. Converge your will, manifest your intent and be in the experience. Flow and latch on and flow again.

Sometimes you don't know the good in goodbyes until you are brave enough to accept the fight in holding on. Sometimes a coincidence is our spirits way of getting us to laugh at all the fuss we make.

One of Those Days.

Some days we call it a draw. This is one of those irritating exceptionally sunning days. You know, the ones where the sun beats so heavily, you seek shade. A cave would do.

This is one of those days. An off day. Relax. There will be no quick pill popping, mind numbing, comatose, please God make the feelings go away, escape. I don't watch enough TV for that. For bloody hell, I've been told  feeling is good.

This is one of those days. A day when you second guess all your beliefs. A day when you shy away from the burning inside. A day when you forget you had a purpose long before they had an opinion.

This is one of those days. The day no one likes to talk about. Que Miranda here. Mama and her broken heart can kiss my off day bum.

I want to talk about it. Well, ok. Baby steps. I'll escape with words, random thoughts, past wise owls echoing somewhere in there, onto this black hole praying no one really gets it. Reality bites. Then its blissful. Rather poetic.

But, please, keep your voice down. No one wants to hear about it. Inspire me. Motivate me. Heaven forbid we give the green light to have a day. A plan ordinary day with our thoughts and a big cup of tea. I'm sure even the happiest souls have these days. I'm convinced.

This is one of those days. A day when just enough time passes you second guess your faith, your gut and all the voices you've trained your mind to hear. A day when the others creep in, sneaking in their judgements and stern glare. 

This is one of those days. A string of moments where you feel selfish for withdrawing. A moment when you linger in bed a tad too long to allow yourself to think original thoughts.

This is one of those days. A glimpse into the chaotic mind outside of the online best foot forward self portrayal we grant access so the unconnected see.

This is one of those days when I miss people and their memories.

This is one of those days. A day you discover being who you are is messy and imperfect and you'd like to share that with everyone because how could they possibly still love you and all your imperfections.

This is one of those days. A day where hours pass like minutes begging you to accept the shade. I keep telling myself it's there you learn how enlightening the sun is.

This is one of those days. A day when the realization all the roads and all the turns and all the goals are found in the stillness, the cave for one and the you you've learned to hide. A day when you discover people are the best thing that happen to us and to share even these days, honestly, openingly with any one is all the faith you need. 

These days are for the socially unacceptable wanderers and spark political warfare. These are the days the writer beats the fighter and how to influence people guides fail in comparison. These are the days you find strength and put to words the thoughts in your head, allowing the off and on- line to collide. These are the days you define freedom. These are the days you declare your imperfections.

I'm a runner. I'm either sprinting the hell away or on the chase. Standing still is exhausting. This is one of those days. Clothed and ready to bolt, I stand willingly trapped in a cave. I've also been told knowing is half the battle.

So, please let me down from there. I'm messy and I'm raw. I'm lost every now and again. I'm preoccupied and disastrously thoughtful. I will think of you obsessively only to forget you completely. I crave affection and a have propensity for aloneness. I have so many plans I've forgotten how to begin. I love hard, very slowly and then all at once. I'm learning how to celebrate the highs just as much as the lows, embracing the awareness, not the attributes someone centuries ago labeled them. It's hard work discovering who we really are. It's terrifying letting go of the online image to stand alone with your stillness. We change instantly by people, experiences and memories. These are the days we matter. I'll hold on too long, letting their voices echo to a whisper continuing to wonder how they declared their reality until I have another one of these days to allow myself the chance to forgive my imperfections to become perfectly enchanted with all of who I am.

May we all take a day to find our cave, our quicksand and our inner voice defining what it means for us to be free. May we all be as free as we can be on the darkest days, in the radiant light and all the shade in between.

This is simply one of those days. And what a beautiful journey it's been.