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March 22nd, 2012
Mar. 22nd, 2012 02:42 amThe final hours before dusk. Pedaling my 'Baby' through 'the City in a Forest'. For the last few days here in Terminus the air has been suffused with the pungent musk of flowers. Vague memories of weddings, funerals, and the intimate bloom of distant lovers stirred. Crisp golden light descends down quiet streets canopied under arcades of white and pink dogwood petals. The surfaces of cars, banisters, and rails dusted in a fine blanket of pea soup green pollen. Gliding down the winding bike trail parallel to Freedom Parkway, a strong wind heralding an approaching storm sweeps through the trees and plucks a soft rain of violet confetti to cascade over me. I hit the brakes, slide to a stop and dissolve into the fleeting awe of this moment in this place in the world. Baptized under the depths of an immense silence within, a grace without holiness and a gratitude without supplication.
But then the gust passes and in its place, an awareness of awareness takes over. I shake off the Satori head buzz, kick off the ground littered with tiny violet petals and pedal my way further into the city.
I don't know what it is but I haven't been myself lately... and it turns out that that's a good thing. The anger is down to the occasional spark of frustration rather than the perpetual blaze that guided me through the shadows of my dissatisfaction. The mirror of my thoughts, no longer polished with a fresh spit shine of self loathing, reflect back instead the reluctant heroes of my childhood. Though it's been months since I've known the bliss of consummation, the hunger-fever that clawed so awkwardly at the back of my head has burnt itself out, leaving me cool as ashes swallowed in the snow. Life without love no longer reduces me to being a prisoner in my own flesh, but rather has made of me both a wandering ronin and a humble pilgrim. The truth though is, since my father's memorial earlier this month, I've found myself overcome with the gentle wonder of a plane crash survivor. The world seems illuminated with quirky miracles all around me and every second seems a second chance to get it right.
But much like the blooms that garnish my adopted hometown these last few weeks, I fear this mood might wither and I'll soon find myself desperately trying to cling to a fake smile again the way the drunks cling to their glasses after last call. Still, for however long I've been granted this reprieve from myself, I'll make the best of my time in the hopes of making a better man to guide through it.
But then the gust passes and in its place, an awareness of awareness takes over. I shake off the Satori head buzz, kick off the ground littered with tiny violet petals and pedal my way further into the city.
I don't know what it is but I haven't been myself lately... and it turns out that that's a good thing. The anger is down to the occasional spark of frustration rather than the perpetual blaze that guided me through the shadows of my dissatisfaction. The mirror of my thoughts, no longer polished with a fresh spit shine of self loathing, reflect back instead the reluctant heroes of my childhood. Though it's been months since I've known the bliss of consummation, the hunger-fever that clawed so awkwardly at the back of my head has burnt itself out, leaving me cool as ashes swallowed in the snow. Life without love no longer reduces me to being a prisoner in my own flesh, but rather has made of me both a wandering ronin and a humble pilgrim. The truth though is, since my father's memorial earlier this month, I've found myself overcome with the gentle wonder of a plane crash survivor. The world seems illuminated with quirky miracles all around me and every second seems a second chance to get it right.
But much like the blooms that garnish my adopted hometown these last few weeks, I fear this mood might wither and I'll soon find myself desperately trying to cling to a fake smile again the way the drunks cling to their glasses after last call. Still, for however long I've been granted this reprieve from myself, I'll make the best of my time in the hopes of making a better man to guide through it.
