I look back over my shoulder at my path to my point right now… If I hadn’t walked my path, I’m not sure I’d believe it could take so many zigs and zags. It’s littered with peaks and valleys, dead ends and wide meadows. I searched for freedom and meaning, sometimes in places that had little light. And like Ms. Hill said – “I hope that you can hear me, because it’s not the sound”. . . that’s where it’s at now. Talking without using voice – after all, its all electronic or heart to heart. I’m reaching toward Zion with the tap of a letter, keystroke, mutter of a heart whisper, or glance at the unanswered questions – I have a lot on my mind. Some days I feel like the Coyote in the old school cartoons, staring up at an Acme anvil perched precariously on a ledge – there’s a ton of stuff up there! And most days, there are more questions than answers, possibilities than potentials in action.
I wonder about all of the tomorrows that have yet to happen, which may never. Every story never written, every pattern never created… Every picture never taken. Long stares across a narrow river, beneath a treble clef looking piece of art, hinting that music is and will be everywhere. It makes up the very fabric of my cloth, the raiment that adorns my shoulders. The tempo created by bodies moving in time to the riddim, the slow drum roll that vaguely sounds like hearts in anticipation, the melody created by hellos, goodbyes and sighs. Then I race the self-made clock to my next mile stone. Only when taking a pit stop, on days like today, can I mildly appreciate the track.
But south of the Mason Dixon line is where I reside. 3 visits and a brunch later my handling skills are varied at best. Some days I look like an arthritic attempting to knit, other days like a heart surgeon suturing a patient. So where does this all leave me? Windows down, feeling the elements without intense sunshine or rain, the terrain looks and smells different. Maybe because it’s Fall… I think about what’s coming next. Maybe it’s because things are different. And just like a flower might wonder aloud “would summer ever come again?” 🙂 Another hill is surely ahead of me. My eyes automatically squint and my jaw flexes at the prospect of accomplishment. another climb. There’s a funny part of my belly that ignites in fire, and a part of my heart that warms at the idea of an adventure to be had. It’s familiar terrain. My jacket is warm, but the weathers’ fine. The destination of Zion… mine.
Funny how a change in perspective changes the perceived outcome. . .. perhaps. =)