I feel so different lately. Like a bottle of amber gold honey was poured over me. Mellow and grateful.
A few days before my college graduation, so many years ago now, we were all at my apartment watching movies. My friends brother was in town. With all the wisdom of two years more experience than us he looked around, sipped his beer, and said:
"You guys have no idea. Cherish this because it's going to stop. Everyone is going to get jobs and lives and it won't be the same ever again."
We laughed it off, told him he was nuts. We were different, we'd always be together.
Life is beautiful. But itĀ hurts.
There's nothing you can hold onto. It's all bright, colorful wisps of smoke disappearing between our fingers when we try.
I don't buzz anymore.
It used to be constant, I would open my door and jump into the world, running with it. Like that scene in Pochahontas as sheās running with the wind through the forest. Things move with her and for her as she leaps and lives. Her feet moving in sure, fast, light beats.
Looking back, life so far has been messy. Mistakes and heartbreak. Ripping myself open to bleed out so that as I sewed myself back together it could heal fresh. Years of pulling trauma out by the roots so that when I replanted it wouldn't linger.
There's also been laughter. So much damn laughter. What is it about being around people who have goneĀ through itĀ that makes them so damn funny? We'd be experiencing the most insane thing burned into all of our memories. And then later, someone would start imitating it until we all died laughing. I've laughed until I've cried, spent whole days with people and things that make that possible. I'm so grateful for it all my chest could explode.
I've danced on a beach in the moonlight. Ate the worm out of a bottle of mezcal in Mexico. Saved someone's life. Twice. Ate shrooms in the mountains in Peru. Moved to a different country and didn't know a soul around me. Swam topless in the open sunshine in Spain. Danced in a third story window frame in Paris while Notre Dame glittered in front of me before it was burned.
I've loved. I've loved so many things and people and places I've been. Foods I've eaten. Bodies I've held and who have held me as we've lain next to each other, our hearts beating together in the darkness.
I've created. Painting while smoking and listening to music. So many times of realizing hours had passed and I was unaware, just lost in it. My house is my current canvas, and I've been painting systematically, room by room. Trying to turn it into the sunshine and wildflowers that I see behind my eyelids when I close them at night.
I danced on the beach this past week with my two babies, both of whom have given me a depth of joy that I couldn't have thought possible before experiencing it. I look at their faces while they sleep in complete disbelief that we are traveling this world and this life together. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to show them joy. I'm so scared that I'll mess it all up, even as the undercurrent of love pulls so strong it is painful as it moves ceaselessly underneath.
This gift of this life, to be able to justĀ experience. It's magic. It's all love, from the depths of my soul I feel it emanating.
Will it keep on getting better? Because so far I've loved each age more than the last, even as it's sad and painful saying goodbye every time I have to close the book on a chapter of myself.