A Nod To A Poet
People are content to remain tightly in a bud. It’s not that I don’t understand but I find it to be more painful than most — almost as I would imagine it to be like a slow, slow death — disappearing into the ether, never to discover what lies beneath the layers we learn to use like camouflage to hide ourselves from ourselves.
So, I opt to take the risk. I step out of it — and frequently;
…and when I do, I enjoy what happens.
I welcome the new found freedoms, joys, connections and the undeniable tickling of my soul.
It is indeed what makes me feel alive, unafraid and unthreatened by all the closures around me - in all things unventured…
…watching as a spectator, people so shut down under the weight of every day burdens of the mind…
…but, it is in these disruptions to my soul and unveiling of layers, that I’ve learned to look forward to each time I dare take the risk again and again-stepping outside the bud, ripping off the masks — mine –yours — just for a small taste — to enjoy — to savor the enrichment and sweet, sweet flavor of all that awaits each moment, as you live in it, wade and splash in it — and dance in it — if only in your mind. It is the strip tease of the moment — if but fleeting — that bares your very soul.
Oh……but the release……
There is nothing, I think, which compares to the joy, the lightness and alas, the unspoken bond when you take someone with you on the journey, to witness with incredible awe as they discover with ease how it washes the pain, quenches the palette and cleanses their soul.
But…
…oh how sad it is when you bear witness to their inevitable retreat, shrinking back into the safe, safe, bud and though loosely veiled, wearing obvious regret, that they ever stepped out of it in the first place….
It is a wretched whiplash that bends the spirit, forcing you to accept that this notion of safety is no match for a reckless wonderment, which by its very nature, forces me into rhythmic ecstasies abound that oxygenates the spirit, flushing all doubts that this could be anything but good.
Still… I remain surprised at my own blind submission when I am reminded with frequency — and so quickly, of the self-preservation, eclipsing all else …and the need to return to the bud.
So… I go too.
