pre-run: i poured three inches of coffee into my mug instead of one, added chocolate teddy grahams to my everyday banana, and tied on my merrill pacegloves knowing i'd be running farther than my feet were "ready" to run in them.
i left without asking them if i could take the week off. and i wondered what the world would be like if every person tuned into who they are, what they want and what they need daily, knowing that with each rising sun those things might shift completely.
i bought vermouth and made myself a martini in a mini wine glass.
what does it mean when a day of roasting eggplants in my mothers oven, dicing tomatoes on the cutting board my father made with the knife he sharpened, plucking parsley and basil out of the garden barefoot under the incessant gaze of a descending sun and mixing flour with baking powder with beer and rubbing raw egg into it with my bare hands makes me breathe deeply, realize my spirit is still very much alive, and wonder if life isn't something we have to find after all, but rather something that we only have to release ourselves into and allow ourselves to experience.
God and i have some talking to do. i want to know why i experience things in extremes- why those three months in college pushed me to a place where He was all i wanted, all i needed, all i pursued, all i really found. why my appreciation for life came at the expense of giving up almost everything that would appear normal from the perspective of another. why five mile runs aren't enough for me. why a month in the mountains seems the only thing that just might cure this, what has been insatiable, need to be free. i want to know why sometimes i want a garden, a pear tree, bees, naked babies to catch fireflies and butterflies and eat cookie dough with, and sometimes i want to put my life in a backpack, fly to mozambique and spend the rest of my life believing God to provide my food and keep me free from disease while i give orphans homes and prove, to both them and myself, that love is, after all, the only thing that can really change anything, the only thing that matters at all.
i believe life is about people. i remember when you told me that, you with your incredible gray bulgarian eyes. you said "for me life is about the people". i looked at you and i swear i really saw you, beyond the eyeliner and the perfect physique and the straight A's, but i wasn't sure i agreed. maria darling, i agree now. life is about the people.
and it's knowing who you are outside of what anyone else sees or would want you to be. i believe it's okay to disappoint. there are some addictions that are okay. the sun rises hoping we'll watch it and be pleased, but even when we don't it's just as faithful to bring forth another day.
there aren't answers for why her mom died mere weeks before her wedding, why his father died just days before his high school graduation, why you take pills to keep yourself happy. there aren't answers for why you and i work despite the naysayers and "good points".
i know this: by now i really think i know when it's real and when it's not. i know when i'm fulfilled, when i'm happy, and the difference between pain and discomfort. i'll wear my new red leather minnetonkas, but i'm still going to keep my paint covered, practically soleless pair in a prime location in my car- there will be times when i'll need them for the comfort of the memories. it's similar to why i let myself into her apartment monday morning, pulled my pink patchwork quilt out of the corner and layed on her couch all afternoon in the skirt the woman in ghana made me two years prior.
that being said, sometimes i convince myself i have no idea where the lines are between right and wrong. i can't tell the difference between black and gray and i'm not sure i want to be taught anymore.
i want the birds to perch on my piano, the one with the chipped ivory keys, while i play for the flowers and the ferns.
(my hair was straight so i floated down the river
on my back)