the thrill of it

(I recommend you listen to this while reading.)

The dishwasher snaps shut downstairs, I shift in my seat on my bed.  Swallowing to clear my throat.  A composer at my keyboard, I have become.  The piano notes fill my headphones in a way that I can hear nothing else but the the steady rhythm.  The soft sound lulls my heart.  My shoulders fall, relaxed.  Pacing my breath with the sound of the music it’s quite possibly the most calming thing I’ve ever felt.

The soft light outside gazed in at me.  Clouds covered a once blue sky and contrary to the sound of that, I was joyful for it.  That meant rain.  Rain brought green.  Green grass, green trees, life.  Squeezing my eyes shut I longed for retreat.  Not from schoolwork or life in general, simply from routine.

The rhythm over and over again.  It was a sort of cage, a trap that every day, (almost) everyone lets themselves get caught in.  Same routine. Over and over and over again. (the extra “over” for emphasis, of course.)

The morning brew.  Class.  Homework.  Work Out.  Ride.  Meetings upon meetings, essay upon essay.  Work. It’s all so very necessary but  dangerous.  For the little time that I’ve been back at school I’ve begun to realize this feeling.  There was no real challenge.  Everything could be solved so quickly, done so effortlessly – when put into perspective.

What was the point of it all?

More and more it’s become easy to lose track of what’s important.  The every-dying sense of wonder and awe.  Holding your breath and not knowing what to expect. The simple bliss of uncontrollable laughter.  Feeling incredibly small standing in front of the waves of the great, vast sea crashing against the cliff.  Little lights flicker a thousand miles away.  Staring out you can realize that your life is small, but significant in this strange little world.  How people are relative to the little insects, plants, the droplets of rain that fall from the sky.  How relative they are to the salty ones that fall from one’s eyes.

Each just as important as the next.

How I longed for something new, a sort of change of pace.  A real challenge, some kind of rush.  I wanted to feel like a child again.  That feeling, hardly being able to fall asleep because you don’t know what to expect the next morning but whatever the day holds, it would be amazing.  The night before Christmas kind of magic.   Words cannot emphasize how much I miss the thrill.

What am I looking forward to?  Waiting eagerly for?  What’s the purpose?

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions but I refuse to take a generic answer. Perhaps that is the point though, finding a purpose.  One of excitement and bliss.  Something to look forward, onward to.  We’ll see-  It’s an adventure, is it not?

light at the end of the tunnel

let it rain.

2 thoughts on “the thrill of it

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