What mesmerizes me most about a child, is his unnerving ability to trust the world around him. The body and the mind, both committed in the same way…urging a spirit towards that which captivates it. I wonder when this changes? I wonder most what makes us change?
Lately, my body feels like a child and my mind like a sad, beaten up old woman, whose wrinkles stand the test of time, even as they paint her face in ugliness. There is a fight happening inside of me. A child’s passion standing guard against a broken heart.
Part of me is waiting for one of them to give in, and the other patient in understanding this battle could last the test of time. Perhaps it is in my nature to ponder the questions so completely that they become who I am…not the answers, but the puzzle.
Sometimes, while seeking the answers, I find myself searching for maps…my fingers following the routes, roads, and tributaries that lead me to where I am supposed to feel nothing…but instead, I get stuck inside a mural, living this life whose ebb and flow never quite lead me astray. Instead I float down rivers, my body relaxed…waiting for the next rapid to beat and bruise me.
Is it possible that this body is ready to twist and turn along with the tide…unharmed, past the next rapid? Am I now, perhaps, finally equipped to bounce and slide right on past?
To answer this final question, I can’t help but get tripped up on what it means to love and what it means to hate. I am struck by how similar these too emotions are. Struck more by the variance of subtleties that lie inside them both. It is a tricky notion to say I love you…and a flippant one to clench your hands in anger. Both fueled with passion, only one in fear.
I am questioning the difference between love and loving. One merely exists…while the other lives. The place they occupy confuses me, and I”m searching to articulate the difference.
But one thing is for certain…I love one man, while I’m busy loving another.