That Time I...

 I time traveled on my three and a half mile walk this morning – reacquainted with a few people from my past.  I met a young girl at the University of Dayton, scared and homesick for the first few weeks.  She listened to the newest Bruce album at the time and played Dry Lightning over and over until her neighbors in the apartment next door knew every word.

I felt the fever burning in my soul when the Further on Up the Road was released, and I thought its album was one of Bruce’s yet; and  I walked down Randolph Street with my best friend as he recalled some childhood memories from his time on Broadway.

I saw my childhood home from the back seat of a Lincoln as we crested a hill on Milestrip Road while My Hometown played in the background, returning home after three months in California, and four days of driving across the country.

I was at Jeff’s wedding again, softly singing along to My Wish as he danced with my mother and her rustling skirt.

The trail broke and I walked on This Hard Land and was hoping I could make it, but if I couldn’t, I would stay hungry and stay alive.

I felt my cheeks hurt again as I thought of the laughter my roommate Heather and I shared during that first year of college, where I made her listen to Human Touch until she could sing it along with me – wishing both Jon Bon Jovi (in my mind) and Bruce goodnight.  The Waltons were never a part of my life, so who could blame me?

It was a Long Walk Home until I recalled the memory of Jeff walking toward me with an armful of Styrofoam cups filled with Bud Light at a concert in Buffalo.  The limit was two per customer, and I never asked how he got away with six because I already knew the answer – he just had a way.  American Land played that night, the first time I had ever heard it and I recall being so enamored by the lyrics as they played on the big screen while Bruce belted the lyrics.  It is Jeff’s favorite, and it’s one of those that I never turn off when I hear it because for a moment I’m back in that concert hall, and his arm is around my shoulder, the biggest smiles on our faces.

But alas, my walk had to end, and I entered the Land of Hope and Dreams and opened this computer.

The sun that shined on me this morning through the scattering clouds shadowed the path back to home. In as little as forty-five minutes, I found my center again.  Thanks Bruce.

The Wind

Maybe I am like a cloud – heavy and saturated, waiting to let go and rain upon something.  A cloud that meets other clouds, pushed by the wind to grow bigger until the weight pulls it down to land on everything it hovers.  

I am not like the wind anymore - sure and strong for the beauty it possesses, everything and nothing all at once.

I never want to disappoint you.  I spend time inside myself, pushing back the bad and growing heavier with each passing year.  Holding in all the good for fear of it not being enough for anyone. Tense and worn, tight muscles and active cells fighting to survive, to get over some random fear of ill health or disease, frightening but real.

I can’t do it anymore. I can’t hide inside myself, waiting for the day when the winds will blow it all away, waiting for the day when I will collide with hope or faith and my fear of disappointing anyone will be abated, obliterated, non-existent.

I take deep breaths to calm my heartbeat – to empty my lungs so I can hear if it’s irregular, if I am going to die of a heart attack or a stroke, or if my demise is simply suffering  like this until my physical body just gives up, like an old horse.  Take care of your wellness before your illness forces you to do it.  Something like that keeps going through my head.  Take care of yourself.

The mind does strange things. It confuses things and makes you think that laying on the sofa, drinking or eating, and mindlessly playing games is comforting.  It makes you feel as though the less ambitious your body is, the safer you are.  But it’s essentially killing the you that you’re trying to keep safe.  So, what is the choice?  Exert the effort despite the fear of disappointing anyone.  I see that as the solution.

What have I been doing lately?  Holding back on my intuition, my wants, my desires, the truth that taking care of myself physically will allow me to take care of myself mentally.  It’s not the other way around! 

Or maybe it is.  

I don’t know.

I do know. 

Sleeping well helps, eating healthy foods helps, walking helps, lifting weights and sweating helps, painting the walls of every fucking room helps, listening to music and dancing helps, laughing helps – all these beautiful things help.  How is sitting on the sofa, growing larger a benefit in any way?  What am I trying to protect by doing it?  Protect the predictability of status quo? Protect the little voice that says, “but this time you might do something that isn’t good enough; you might not get the approval of every important person in your life; you might lose their love, and wouldn’t that be a shame?”

That voice that plays at being my best friend when it’s simply scared.  I thought I banished the negative insults that came with it – I screamed and yelled and told that voice never to return.  It's been hidden, only coming out at night when I’m asleep, or lurking in my head when it comes to decide what I should do with my evening… “just relax, you deserve it, so what you’re getting bigger, you can take care of it tomorrow… and tomorrow… and tomorrow…”. Every day I look forward until tomorrow. Another day without disappointing anyone passes and I’m happy. 

But I’m not. 

I’m just growing heavier and heavier until one day my entirety will fall freely into the ruts, the mud, the puddles, the unknown and all I'll be left with is the wind to push what’s left of me into something else.