Oh my life, my love, can you hear me?
Here’s the part of my life where I sit and watch my dreams change. I sat on the ledge of some cliff on some hill in some village in Lebanon and I could see it. The clouds rolling in over the hills, coming from the sea covering Beirut. It moved and moved and moved closer until I was in it and I could no longer see the view. The cloud seeped into me. Into the ever deepening cracks of my skin. And it was bitterly cold.
In Jordan I found that this was ok. It’s ok for me to not be who I thought I was. It’s ok for me to hurt. It’s ok for me to be lost on the right path. It’s ok to be alone but not really alone. Sometimes the adventure is the pain. Am I young enough to start again? Of course. I will always be young enough to start again. I am a jar of river water that has been shaken and shaken and shaken and instead of ceasing and letting the dirt settle, I have just been shaken again. Is it ok to stop? I need someone’s permission. Yet I know that within my heart is a brick home next to a river. There is space there. Space to create, to breathe, to rest. I need to find my way back there, even if it means turning around. Is it ok if I go there and just sit a while?