Trees are trees and words are words, at first glance appearing to look and sound the same. A recurring voice says it’s all been said and done before, what can you contribute?
To be honest, I’m not sure.
Another voice quietly tells me it could be something, so with some ink and time maybe I’ll figure out what that is. I can start with what makes me feel confident and strong.
The warmth of sizzling blacktop or cool yielding trails beneath flying feet, discovering new paths and places you couldn’t have imagined and can’t go back to because they no longer exist.
Pretending to be the world’s next Olympic gymnast and testing a small body’s limits, the tingling fatigue of hovering in two-point over a 10 lb saddle aboard an 800 or so pound body, one-two-threeing patterns at the brush of a heel.
Seeing the product of months of graphite hand stains nearly come to life.
Bringing a smile to another human’s face, or even better, a laugh – a real, honest-to-goodness rumble that bubbles up and out of you. Feeling that warm hum of connection and shared experience ripple out to nerve endings. Everything described could be a story, is a story.
Words are words,
but hopefully I’ll start and now I am actually writing them down instead of letting them fall like leaves in my head.
That’s when I wrote the above. I modified it, but only slightly. I was four months removed from a narcolepsy diagnosis, and only a few days into year 22, but when I re-found this little blurb I was surprised at its relevance. I’m not sure how to describe what I felt – like surprise at my past self writing just what I needed to hear now, years down the road, some sadness over the challenges I didn’t know were ahead, and also pride at how much I’ve written, grown and changed, what I’ve come back to and has stayed true.
It’s different. A similar theme to the last post, but another perspective and added layer I want to share.