I have this feeling, which is love, which is mixed with so many things, which makes it difficult for me to speak sometimes, which is why I come here to write, because when I write, there is no stutter, and when you read, I believe you can hear me clearly.
(At least I hope so.)
There are times when the world turns and for the minute, everything is still. The moment could be crucial or even simple but either way, in the moment, thoughts can be heavy or even gentle. The sky is a large, overhead screen, like a portal to an inestimable version of what we call Heaven. The clouds drift. The wind blows and the sunlight filters down from the sky.
Years ago, we were sitting in the waiting area at an airport and the flight was hours late. I was listening to the nearby passengers on their cell phones. They were arguing out loud about the delay. I was delayed as well —only, the delay was not so bad for me.
I see myself as a searcher. I suppose I always have been. Then again, I suppose we all are.
We’re the same when it comes to this. We’re all searching, —even when we find what we want, we still look, we still question, and we still wonder.
Life is evolving. It never stops. Like it or not, life keeps moving regardless to the plans we make. Either way, it’s true. Life is a journey. It’s a quest. I believe this with all my heart and so should you.
Snow falls and the town is quiet. It is nighttime and yet the fields are covered in a white blanket, which softens the appeal of the late night hours that come after midnight. The snowy grounds warmly illuminate a dull gray, which is nice to see because this reminds me the snowfall is not a threat, but instead, a reminder to stay in and be warm.
The streets are unused at this hour, which is good, which is why I never minded the idea of living in a small town. I like the quiet now. Perhaps this matches my age. Perhaps this is a sign of maturity. Or, maybe I’ve just outgrown the noise and hustle of New York City.
On nights like this in the mountains, everyone is cuddled in their homes, safe and warm, family is with family, and the entire world around me is hushed to a soft lullaby. I like that.
I am thinking now of a time, sitting on an airplane, heading from one side of our country to another. I am reclining back to a comfortable flat position. The stewardess had just kindly offered me a hot towel, which I accepted of course, with thanks.
There is a musician nearby, sitting with some of his entourage, and flying back from his hometown in Jersey. He explained that he was heading back to the West-coast life, which he built for himself with his talent and a guitar. I said nothing to him though—although, admittedly I was an excited fan, I was also here to accompany someone to their previous life with help to create a new one.
I love this time of year.
I love the transition from summer into winter.
The leaves change.
The kids go back to school.
The mood changes too.
I like the switch that gradually moves us into the colder months.