Memories From the Balcony – Springtime

Here it is, today. The first morning of spring.
I know that something is on its way. I know that changes are about to take place.
I know this because life has always been this way. Everything changes. Time changes. The clocks change.
The way we look changes. The way we act and the way we think changes as well.

Our intentions change and so will our incentives. Maybe this a process. Or, maybe this is more of a challenge for some than it is for others. Or, maybe this is just relative.
Maybe this is subjective; but either way, all things do and must change.
This is life. Or, at least this is what I was told.

I know that I do not speak the way I used to speak. I don’t act or respond the same as I did when I was in my 20’s. I don’t think the same as I did in my 30’s and I don’t look or dress the same as I did when I was in my 40’s. My fashion has changed. Fortunately, my hair is still with me so that hasn’t changed too much.

I know that “the boy” in me or “the kid” and the “inner-child” is still in there, somewhere, hoping for a day at the park or a morning like the one I experienced during a late August while fishing with The Old Man.
I know that while I’ve advanced in age, I’ve gained experience. I’ve grown and learned.
I also know that the goodness of my youth, albeit distant from now and in some ways crazy, in other ways imperfect, but in all ways necessary, I am the perfect sum of a lifelong journey. I am perfect in every way, so long as I remain me and true to myself – this is the most perfect that anyone of us can be.

There was a time, long ago, which I remember clearly. I can still see this and due to the pictures in my mind, I can hold this memory closely. This was in what seems to be a different lifetime. But yet, this lifetime was mine.
I went on a walk through the woods. This was a nature hike on an afternoon when springtime decided to show itself. The ground was thawing. The snow had gone away. There was warmth in the air.
But more, there was hope. 
I knew this meant that I was one step closer to an answer.
I knew that my young life was about to change. This meant that my life was about to begin a new chapter.
I also knew the time was about to change. I knew the months that were spent on a farm in the upstate mountains of New York was about to come to a close. I didn’t know what this was about to look like, but I knew I was one step closer to my release.

I can see how time is cyclical.
I can see how this coincided with the cycles of nature.
The seasons – well, the seasons have always be interesting to me.
Winter, spring, summer, fall, all of which can, will and most certainly change.
And so do we.

I like this.
I like that change can happen. I like that we can bring about change within ourselves at any given moment.
I may not be comfortable with the switches in my schedule. I don’t like the changes that come with my commute, especially when this makes my commute longer. But the freedom to change one’s self is amazing, uplifting, freeing. But more so, this is redeeming. I like this.
Also, I like the fact that the right to change our mind and our direction is inalienable. 
No one can take this from us.
People can influence our surroundings. Yes, I get that.
But we have the right to process and respond in whichever way we choose.
And me, I want more.
I want to be better. I want to be unhinged from others and, more so, I want to remove the codependency we see all too often. At last, I can be free from unnecessary passions that keep me bound to a senseless loss.

When I was young – I was wild. But . . .
When I was about to be free or at about this time; when I was on my nature walk, I was experiencing life at a brand new level. I had thrown away the old bits and pieces of my past. I removed myself from the descriptions that no longer served me.
I was removed from my surroundings which only proved to be helpful because otherwise I wouldn’t have survived much longer. I wouldn’t have known about anything outside of my elements. I wouldn’t have known there was a different way to live. I wouldn’t have known what it meant to wake up in different places or do different things.
All I would have know about was the karma and dogma of my so-called life and the past indecencies which was all that I could consider.

Had I been caught in the same routines, at best, I’d have been the same person.
That is, of course, if I survived myself.
Had I remained in the same dogma or had I remained in the same dogmatic ideas and thoughts; as if this were all true, then I would have never allowed myself the opportunity to learn new things or go off in new directions.

I learned, alright.
I learned plenty.

I learned about my ability which was more than I believed.
I learned about my truth which is that I was more than I knew.
I learned that I can go, think, do and be something or someone else at any given moment. Above all things, this was the most freeing aspect of my lessons because at last I learned that I can be me and this would be absolutely perfect.
This was my first real moment of truth. This was an awakening of sorts.

This is when I learned that lessons can be mistaught or misconstrued.
“This is when I learned that not all teachers are appropriate and not all things are accurate or correct.
But still, we learn them anyway.
Don’t we?
We learn every day.
Sometimes we learn helpful things.
Other times, not so much.

I remember walking up the side of a mountain. The moss green earth was coming back.
I could see the moss on the ground at the base of a few trees. The cow fields and the pastures were no longer overtaken by a colorless mass. There was a brook that was babbling down the mountainside and the water chattered while passing through rocks and heading downstream to a lake nearby. The air was not cold by any means but instead, everything was refreshing and new. There was nothing manmade about this scene. Not even sound.
I swear, I could hear nothing else but the noise from the woods and the wind blowing through the trees. 

I was never much for the country when I was growing up. To be clear, I am typically more of a city kid. Then again, I never knew much about anything outside of my previous life. I never knew what it was like to look out from the side of a mountain and see nothing else but nature.

Had I stayed as I was then I would always be as I was.
Hence, change.
Hence the necessity of growth.
Hence the birth of experience. 
Hence the blossom of spring.

I do not see things the same as I did when I was young.
I don’t look the same or think the same; however, regardless of my age and regardless of what has happened between now and then, I do enjoy the birth of spring.
I enjoy the cognizant view and a personal rebirth that has allowed me to evolve.
Otherwise, I would never be where I am or here with you.

I like the fact that old things have the right to end.
New things have the right to start. And this right here, this is my testament.
This thing that you’re reading, this is my mission.

This is a vision statement and an acknowledging promise that I have the right to go or stay.
I have the right to change my mind. I have the right to improve, advance and should the things I do result in finding me in a better place, I have the right to stake my claim and build my castle.
Right here. Right now.
And that’s my plan.

It’s amazing how weeks can change the face of the earth.
It’s amazing how the return of green in the trees and warmth in the air can rebuild hope in so many directions.
I like this.

I am like the earth, thawing in a sense and redefining myself to become alive again.

I think of the name Aslan, the Great Lion and the story that I was told about the lion’s mane.
I recall how this was a symbol of Aslan’s strength.
I can recall this as a cartoon (I believe) but more, I can recall the moments of downheartedness and the beaten and broken things which happen to us throughout life.
I’ve been scalped in ways. I’ve lost my mane as well.
I see this as a sign of redemption and rebirth.

I know that there are times when life has been tough.
I know there are times when equally, just like Aslan, it seemed as if my strength was stolen from me. 
But I can heal. I’ve proven this.
I can find my center and begin at the moment of my rebirth. I can recover and replace my thoughts with action.

I can remember an afternoon when I sat down at my very first computer and wrote the words, “My redemption has nothing to do with your response.”
I like this.
I know that Friedrich Nietzsche was right when he said: That which does not kill us makes us stronger.
But more, I like the word antifragile.
I like that adversity does not hurt me nor does this weaken me. Instead, I am better. I am antifragile.
I am more efficient. I have grown and, at last, I am free from the breakages of my past because finally – I am strong – not because of what I have gone through but because this is who I am.

The sun is up now. The cold from the winter has yet to relinquish its claim.
And that’s okay.
Soon enough, the world will be like this: Warm . . .
And ahh, everything’s new again.
Once more, we can enjoy the view of new life that will come to pass.

It was a mild winter. A lot of changes though.
At least this is how it was in my corner of earth.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings or if anyone has the weather for our side in purgatory.
Either way, for now, I can tell that change is in the air.
It’s okay, really it is.

Once more around the sun, my friend.
Once more around the world

(with you)

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