Movements
Soft, fluid, mesmerizing moments filled my days through my youth. Hands and feet softly moving to rhythms, hips learning to flow with hoof beats, while my back remained still and straight. Transitions were that of changing leads, looking where your next obstacle was and then slowly bringing in the reigns and resting in quiet happiness. Dance and horseback riding teach you about the beauty of transitions. How to flow from one to another with anticipation and thoughtfulness. As I grew I learned to yearn for change, I longed constantly for new places, new people, new love. I craved to feel emotion wrapped all around me. Good, bad, indifferent. And yet as I reached my late twenties my desires began to shift. My nomadic spirit started to crave sweet stability. I wanted to watch little ones learn, grown, smile, discover. I wanted to plant a garden that I could tend to every day, and watch the seasons ebb and flow. And yet there was still a part of me, a part of my spirit that simply longed to never stop moving. It is a constant contradiction of body, mind and soul. I am grounded to the Earth but my invisible wings desire flight.
At times I feel like my calling to stability is nourished by my memories of a romanticized past. Cilantro, Parsley, Sage, Lilacs, the smell of the earth after it rained. Scents that hold my childhood, adventure, first love. I remember the way my best friend used to reach for my hand when we were young. I remember the exact feeling of her skin against mine. I remember the first time I wrapped my arms around my now husband and smelled his neck. His skin smelled like rain on eucalyptus trees and I knew at that moment I could fall madly in love with him. I remember the fear of having to get an MRI on my head, the pounding in my chest, the feeling like life as I knew it was somehow over, and then I remember his hand gently on my ankle reminding me that I was still here and all would be well. These memories of feelings and smells they fill me up, and they also have the capability of holding me back. I cling to these memories and often when I need to leap into something new I grab tightly to a feeling of the past and refuse to leap into the unknown. I must constantly remind myself that all the memories I cherish came from allowing myself to fall off the edge into an unknown abyss.
When the wind alters its course and pulls me in a new direction I have found that looking for the familiar within the new allows me to both hold on and fly free all in the same breath. No matter where I am headed I will always find the nearest market, I seek out cilantro, parsley, and lilacs. I search for connection with new people, I listen to stories of their past and the path that lead them to where they are in this very moment. I constantly find solace in the slightest touch of a hand, a hug, the feeling of quiet knowing when you meet eyes that are familiar in a way that is inexplicable to your conscious mind. In these moments I remember to leap, and grow my wings on the way down. This life we lead is filled with transition. Loss, birth, love, pain. Every day we become. Everyday a little part of us branches off and grows elsewhere. It is navigating these moments that define us, it is learning to transition with the ever changing tides, learning to ride the waves the same way I learned to ride a horse, the same way I learned to extend my arms and legs to their furthest points. This is where truth and self is born. Who am I when I am lost in the world? Who do I become? And how do I begin yet again? I am still learning to navigate these waters , I am still learning how to answer these questions. But what I do know is that I want to live. And no matter the fear that holds tightly to my being, I will push against it, raise my arms to second position and soar. For this is all we have and we make the choice of how our story will be told.
