Trying to find my balance [free write]

24 Apr

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I walked and walked and walked. All weekend. Trying to find new turns. Trying to uncover truth under an unfamiliar overpass. I followed my feet and the music and made my way all around LA. The tension built within me had me wound up and moving my body helps me find a stillness in my mind. My restless mind.

What was on my mind, one may wonder? Like the groundhog waking from hibernation: to squirm against gravity in resurfacing into a familiar yet brand new world is a feeling that supersedes the logic of trying to articulate the sensation. My eyes adjusted to the darkness underground. The cool dark walls and leaks and creaks has made a home for me since I moved out of my parents house almost 6 years ago. I like having nothing to lose. I like the simplicity of having only what I need. I found out that I got a job I had interviewed for. I am thrilled to receive the offer. However, the months ahead will lead to drastic changes in my life and I don’t want to learn to value the things that I see are illusory and material and I don’t want to lose myself in business and I don’t want my dreams and passions to extinguish and I know that all of my worries are my fears and there is nothing to worry about because growth is like a tree and my core and integrity growth with me as I take on life or life takes on me and it took me miles and miles and a weekend to feel at peace with it all.

My heart is heavy. Attachment feels like a 7 year old girls in rubber boots sitting curbside on a log sobbing into the clamor of thunder and rainfall. Wishing home would call out for her and want her back. Wishing there was a place or a voice that embodied the thumbprint of home, the place to be navigated by the northern star. I ran away when I was 7 for the first time. This feeling of attachment as a 7 year girl is mostly memory. I understood what attachment means to me when I felt detached for the first time. I do not attach easily to any one or anything. I love boldly. Too boldly? What a strange idea. An oxymoron. I feel like an oxymoron for continuously writing this stream of thought. I just killed a bug that landed on me with my bare hands like Obama. And with that, adieu.

I haven’t posted any graphic designs or photographs I’ve made or takenfor a while here, so check it out world, I am emerging above.

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