Does the Well Ever Run Dry?

My insides feel like clay cracked by too much sun and though it shined today, there was no heat. Today I met wind with leg warmers, sweater, jacket and my girlfriend. Our managing editor suggested I go outside because when I wrote, I felt boring.

But right now I want to remember the freshness of wind, the charm of friendship, that hint of light greeting me in the mornings before I leave the house. Right now I want to hold onto something I cannot quite touch much less name.

Right now I want.

I want to feel a comfort time has taken. I want the comfort of knowing everything will be all right. And though I know whatever happens, everything will be all right, I don’t feel it with the trust I had when I got in the car with my dad as a kid. I don’t feel it with the hope I met every day before adolescence came at me with questions. I don’t feel it the way I felt when my mom took care of me whenever I was sick.

Right now I want.

I want to feel the moon beckoning me into the night. I want to feel abundance not from within but all around me. I want to feel that who I am is enough. I want to feel that how I am is not too much.

Right now I want.

I want ease to take what weighs me down and shed it like a snake skin. I want to feel so comfortable in my skin I don’t need to shed a layer of anything: fat, need, habits, dreams.

Right now I want to dream.

I want to remember that anything is possible: not the possibility the Dharma talks about of age, sickness and death. I want permanent change and change that unfolds like Dorothy’s yellow brick road. I want the courage of the lion, the heart of the tin man and if I could remember what my favorite the scarecrow wanted, I’d want that too.

But I forget.

I forget faith holds every inhale and exhale and light lives beyond the darkness. I forget need is just a language we all speak to show us love and desire. I forget change is permanent. I forget how I am is okay; for some I am too much, for others I am not enough, and for a very few I am just right.

I forget the blessing of one friend knowing I have several intimate friends and am lucky enough to be making a few new ones. I forget the universe is always expanding even when my heart cannot seem to keep up. I forget I love to write even if it does not mean much.

I forget. I want. I dream.

I forget to dream what I want. I want to dream what I forget. I dream of wanting what I forget and I dream of forgetting what I want.

Freedom holds any moment. I just have to be willing to join it.

 

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Ed: Brianna Bemel