Filled with Observations

I’m not discontent. I’m perfectly happy, going through the daily motions along the roller coaster track that is my emotional experience… I exaggerate when I speak of a roller coaster. My life is no more a roller coaster than a roller skating rink. Yet still I feel…

I feel deeply and fully.

And completely.

And while this relatively new experience of feeling has kept my mind consumed by the vicious energy-eaters that threaten to swallow me whole, I am calm. I would much rather experience the ups and downs of emotion than to be without emotion entirely.

And I’ve been there. I’ve been emotionally constipated. It was for my own protection.
Do not feel.
Do not feel the fears and the horrors of life.

Of course, if you do not feel those things, you will not feel the joy. And the awe. And love, pure love.

When I allowed myself the freedom to feel, the intensity of it blind-sided me. It slapped me across the face so harshly that several years later, I can still feel its sting.

Yet I did not turn away. The pain seared my heart, yet I refused to go back to apathy. The sense of awe and energy was delightful. Love overcame fear.

You’ve heard the cliche before. You’ve heard the stories of Greater Good and can name heroes from every epic tale. Until you’ve experienced for yourself, however, you know nothing.
Words can say nothing that could possibly describe the contrast.

Are there no two greater contrasts than black and white? How very limited we are with words–nay, with concepts. It’s pathetic. A pathetic attempt at allowing you to see the world through the eyes I carry…

Limitless.
Revolving cycle.
To be human is an emotional experience.

Yet without the emotion behind it, you are merely synapsing at the contrast between the color of my words and the color of my background. Wait. Slow down. Read me, feel me.

Understand that this is my only media. Use your imagination. Feel my breath against your neck as I whisper to you, “Here.”
This is it. This is what we have.

This life isn’t filled with discontentment. It’s filled with observations of what it sounds like to hear two birds courting.

It’s filled with observations of what it’s like to touch consignment clothes and see the shadows of the people who once wore them. Who once had broken hearts in them.
Who lived in them.

It’s filled with the observations of magnificence of mountains and of the rivers that grind them down, flowing through them. Disastrous storms cannot weather away these majestic monsters, yet the slow steady pace of trickling water eats them away.
Water, the sustainer of life.
This observation.

This… THIS is not discontentment. This is the wandering path of a roller coaster track. It is not the dull thudding of one foot in front of the other without meaning.

It is a colorful, contrast-filled representation of me.