In the vibrant yellow of a butterfly's wing, there is summer. I am young. I am hungry. Each day feels necessary. Alex G's new album comes out later this month. Caterpillars are nesting in my heart, clearly whispering notions of a nearing personal transformation. Already, I have found that I wasted this early summer season feeling stuck in an energy of confusion pertaining to my future. Being this age feels like a never-ending leap backwards and forwards between knowing how young I am and yet knowing that there is a multitude of time left. The very real need to set up the rest of my life exists here and now. I wish an elder would just laugh at me and how clearly my age I am acting. They seem to know this phase well.
I was worried that I was leaning into an energy of inaction. That I was pushing away what the world had drawn up as vital movement towards my future. I stopped yesterday and asked myself: What would I want my life to look like if it were completely up to me? If I could choose it all? I figured that I would be a writer and a Spanish teacher. One that frequents bathhouses and is well-versed in yoga. I would have more energy and patience for the world. I dreamt of having enough money not only to travel to distant places but to become intimate with these locations. To take a piece of each of them with me everywhere I find myself next. It would be my hope that if I were lucky enough to end up with the dharma that is a wealth like this, that I would be able to easily give it away, knowing money is energy and sitting on massive amounts of it while others go without could hardly stir good fortune going forward.
This woman I would become would leak blue hues of salt water, straight from source, into everything. I would listen more than I talk. In my belief that words are spells, I would stand tall. Spinning magic threads of honey as a philosophy. When I entertain this future reality and all it would encompass, I sense that these desires do not stem from me being unsatisfied in my corner of the world but rather are a natural urge to deepen my encounters with God in a new way as I enhance my awareness. Learning by doing. I fail at nothing in this place. I learn everything. It has come to my attention lately that I become increasingly more anxious the longer I go without having a teacher.
Always have I identified as a student. My spongy mind loves new information, theories, science, wisdom. It desires newness and seeing over the valley of what I've learned to find a vast forest of all I am ignorant to. My hair stands on end with a new book in my hands. This summer I did not enroll myself in any courses due to lack of resources to continue my education. Truthfully, I am no stranger to this non-linear world of on and off schooling. But my sadness grows in a very real way when I do not have an elder or teacher to look to. Thankfully, the anxiety around not being in school right now has dropped significantly.
This is no small step I am choosing for myself, after all. The fork in the road is big and domineering. No matter the intimidation, I return to my heart and remind myself that choices are privileges and I am not without luck or protection. The other night I was laying on my yoga mat thinking about all the roads that I can take to "have a career" and buy into some American dream to play out. Like a semi-truck made of flowers I was softly hit with the real inclination that I very well know why I can't seem to choose a distinct path at this time. All I want to do is study God. Not in an organized, theological classroom environment but in the only place I really like to learn: my big fat heart! Duh!
If I had the choice, I would make every day on Earth my opportunity to learn about it. About the creator. How had I not seen this as a genuine path for myself? It's complicated. Learning about God through birthing goodness into every action I do and person I meet doesn't always translate onto a resume or into a rigid workplace. I don't know that that's going to award me with a great job. Girl has to eat. My appetite craves only God's words from God's mouth. There may not be a structured road to take in this moment. I am resting in the knowing that this isn't my car and I'm not really on this highway. God does not roll dice. Why should I?
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