mascara

i was putting on mascara when it happened. as is usually the case, my mind was elsewhere - not on the mirror, not on the lashes, not on the freckles on my face (although there are more there than I would like). my mind was on autopilot, pursuing a question i've asked it countless times over the past few years, a query that my brain must surely find exhausting, poring over it in sleep and wake, at dinner and in traffic, in showers and at movies.

"what should I do with my life? no, really?" is it enough to earn enough to pay enough to eat enough? surely there is more to life than keeping flesh on my bones. surely there is more than the dread of the alarm clock and the half-asleep breakfasts, the post-work rants and the mindless, numbing repetition.

it's a deep, neverending longing that we all have - a search for passion, for purpose, and for joy. the search eludes me, and I ask my mind, beg it even, for an answer. my thoughts are like marbles in a washing machine - noisy and numerous. if there is enough heat, will they melt? nevertheless, the washing machine is tired and worn, with chipped paint and scratched metal.

my mind is acutely aware of all of this. of my frustration, my struggle, my aching need for fulfillment and meaning. so while i was gingerly coating these eyelashes, it was spitting out answers and blind ideas. what followed was a surge of inspiriation and excitement, a light in a maze that may lead nowhere, but is still worth following. the answer boils down to four things: to learn, to create, to travel, and to write.

it's really happening.

I am a tangled mess of stress, worry, anticipation, and excitement. I am trying to learn to let go of my need for control over every detail, and just go with the flow. It is exceedingly difficult. I'm afraid when this all culminates, I will burst from sheer joy.

amore

it's poetry, the look on your face for me. my eyes scan the edges of your face and neck and hands and mouth, like making a quick, sloppy sketch on a cocktail napkin to crumple in my pocket and save for later. in front of you, i stand in awe. i see the breadth of you, fragile and on display. i see it all. you are silent but the sound of your voice like a ribbon it envelopes me. i feel the warmth of your fingertips, but you've yet to touch me. with quiet anticipation i long for sustained glances, but they are only fleeting. reality tugs at my skirt and pulls me away from you. with heavy eyes and a heavy heart i wake from slumber.

I am...

I am wrestling with the idea that I cannot do everything. I cannot be everything, or see or hear or smell or taste or touch everything. I cannot meet everyone, I cannot explore every nook and cranny of the world. there are facts I will never know, there are things I will never try. while some may find themselves inspired by the limitless possibilities of exploration, experience, and sensation, I am instead crippled by the constraints. I am overwhelmed. the internet, television, movies, magazines, music - they all remind me of the multitude of directions my mind and my life can go, and how I often feel motionless with awe or confusion, my mind helplessly reeling. as it reels now. I need an outlet. all this chaotic thought and energy is making my head and heart hurt. why do I feel as though I must leave no stone unturned? why can I not be at peace with the unknown and the undiscovered?

the amazing universe

I must say that I am really blown away by the intense beauty of the world. the natural wonders, the complexity of every living thing. the colors, the sounds, the textures, the smells. and while I cannot say for certain whether I experience these sensations in the same way that you do, I am confident that there is no denying the beauty of not only this planet, but the entire universe. I am often overwhelmed by this, but I would rather be overwhelmed than go through my day to day life without paying any mind to these things.

I am frustrated and saddened by the fact that I will not be able to see the entire world. it's impossible. yet this will not stop me from soaking up every bit of it that I can. it is certainly not only the natural world that I refer to, there are also cultural and abstract wonders. beautiful artwork, architecture, music, things that are, on their own, incredible... but what is even more striking is the fact that the human mind conceived and created these things.

with all this in mind, I feel so incredibly lucky to be alive - and the simple act of being introduces an entirely new set of amazement - human thought and human emotion, that while expressed in words and artwork, can never be fully materialized. if you think about it, no matter how much you write, or paint, or sing, the state of your heart and mind will never be duplicated. this is also somewhat distressing, but there is comfort in a sort of universal human spirit which has endured for thousands of years.

so slow

it is a strange and paradoxical to be feeling so conflicted, yet simultaneously be amidst an unshakable inner peace. a peace that stems from some sort of connection to the universe, an unspoken trust in all that is to come. patience may be a virtue, but is one of the hardest things in the world for me to grasp. i mean that in every way possible. constantly feeling on the edge of something greater on all levels, yet seemingly always coming up empty handed. so tired of fruitless searches. i may be on the right track, but the train is moving ever so slowly, and i don't even know my stop.

the cocoon

a few days ago a couple of caterpillars were scoping out the woodwork of my patio. shortly thereafter, i come home to find one beginning to spin a cocoon in the corner of a ledge. my inner kindergarten biologist found the whole act incredible, watching the creature with a sense of wonder i won't soon discard. the next morning, it was there - the cocoon. i'm sure it worked all night to weave such a structure in which its metamorphosis will take, is taking, place.

a few minutes of research informed me that i can expect a rather dull looking moth to emerge within a few weeks. it will begin the mating cycle, lay eggs if it is female, and then die. sounds like such a dismal existence. it's silly, but i wonder if the moth has memory. i wonder if it remembers life as a caterpillar at all. if it has thoughts, or if it dreams. the fact that all species of moths and butterflies exist for such a short time and seemingly devote their existence to propagating the species is remarkable to me.

every second, so many changes are happening on earth, right down to the tiniest molecule. it often seems so off-kilter, but upon closer inspection it amazes me how synchronized it all is. it gives me a new perspective on life and the universe. it is so easy to forget these small wonders in our own day to day activities.

i could choose to make this a metaphor about my own life, but i choose not to.