The world outside my window

The world outside my window is strange and grey. There not enough hues of balck and white. There is too much middle ground and not enough solid earth, with its beautiful green grass. I miss seeing trees that are tall and winding with spraling limbs and cradling branches. I really want to go and clib a tree and rest within those understanding wooden arms that ask no questions and make no demands. I'm such a child of the forest. I love the sounds, the smells, the feel of it all. It is a very beautiful thing indeed.

I need to go to the ocean again as well. I love the water and the smell of the sea. I am also a child of the ocean. I love all of the sensations that come from the beach. I long for the feeling of sand sliding and sinking beneath my fingers and toes with its strangely rough and velvety texture. When I go for too long without it, I miss the smell and weighty feel of salt water and the sunlight on my face. It is something completely rare and unique. The most amazing part is being immersed in the water or standing in it just waist deep and letting the waves crash hard against my back with a slow, unerring rhythm. It creates a feeling of giving myself ovr to the ocean, or sacrificing myself to its whims. I enjoy letting myself surrender to something so much more vast thatn I am, it allows me to feel like my life may be of some greater consequence than only as far as my arms and words can reach.

I fell in love with the desert this summer. I have always thought it had its own kind of beauty, but was averse to really taking part in it. I truly discovered it in the bed of the Grand Canyon, and the arid mesas and plateaus of Arizona and the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Nevada. I miss the look of it all, and the permeating stillness that it held. I like recalling the brilliance of the night sky and counting the shooting stars that short across the pinholed blackness. I recall the unnerving stillness that terrified me at the time, but seems oddly soothing in retrospection.

It makes me wonder about how to find ways to retreat from humanity while I'm in this place so far from the comfort of familiar trees, and waters. It seems like even when I am by myself and isolated, I am constantly imposed upon by the pettiness and noise of humanit and the nonsensical pressures of a society that I would rather escape.

I've never been a big advocate of the cold, but it seems it is a constant state of being in this place. I guess that I kind of expected it, but I was hoping for something just a little more mild. I'm coming to embrace it slowly, and find that the frigid air deterrs others from venturing outside, and leaves me with more of a sense of the isolation I am seeking.

I feel disappointingly castoff by people at the moment. Yet I feel as if I shouldn't be at all surprised by this. If I would have thought things through a little more I might have made different choices and remembered my own words. The fact is though that all the world is easily viewed in retrospect, and I probably would not have made any different decisions even if I had thought more carefully. It is all about learning and I suppose that I need to do a lot more of that still.

There is a thin break in the clouds now. Not enough to really let any sunlight through or even to reveal much of the sky, but its there. It is a fine rending of the heavy gray to reveal the possibility of an endlessly blue sky. It presents a wonderfully tantalizing vision, but only a glimpse. It will yield nothing more.

I am sitting here now and waiting patiently for something to reveal itself to me. I think that I recognize the unlikeliness of it happening. I just hold out hope that it will eventually come. Eventually I will find it or it will find me and things will be made just a little more clear. The focus of my life and its panoramic images of beauty, love, understanding, friendship, empathy... all will become just a little bit charper. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next month. Maybe a lifetime away, but soon enough I have faith that it will happen.