7.24.22

Sometimes I can feel something good and worth saying pressing upon my skull. It doesn’t require any effort, it’s just a passing thought admiring a little cut of life. And when it passes I feel a fog of calm set over me that can only be described as who I’m supposed to be.

It happens when I’m admiring something or thinking about all the wonderful inventions of humanity. How fantastic that we’ve made a warm cup of coffee with foamy whole milk or a 50mm film lens perfect for portraits. Or a vintage-style digital radio that can transport us visually back to the past while we remain steadfastly in the now?

But I’m so distractible lately. It’s all on me, I know it. I have a curious my mind always interested in knowing and collecting more. More objects, more things, more thoughts. I’m obsessed with this concept that if I just collect one more thing I’ll know more or be more satisfied or feel more sure in my footing. I want to admire the way a new dress can only be crisp and wrinkle-free once in its package before softening with each load. I want to buy one more book and watch how the newness fades with every page corner I turn. I want to read just one more article about why combs are better for my hair, the distance a candle can throw, the best artificial Christmas tree. There’s always more and to know is to know.

Yet in my pursuit of everything I wander far away from these quick little thoughts of me. Where do I go on these journeys except father from myself? We leave to come back, but have I been good about coming back at all? A journey is a place you return from. Am I leaving for good, transporting, or will I turn around one day and tell home all I’ve known? Am I foot soldier to the details of the universe? Or am I meant to cut my way through the jungle, row my arms numb at sea, lead a squall of words ahead, so I reach that place I call home, a hero returning with all she’s found?

I write like this and I think I hear someone calling me home. It’s a slow ripple, circling towards my paddle, and I’ll bash it away without even seeing it. Amongst an ocean’s waves, it’s lost at sea.