Musings.

I posted this blog awhile back and deleted it for various reasons. I've decided to re-post it because it will give you a bit more insight into what I am going to write next...so have at it.

Here I am stuck in my head again.

The last two months have stripped me. Of my sanity. My innocence. Fucking purity. My conception of life and my purpose within it. It's funny how falling feels like flying. For a little while.

Spiraling down. Alice chasing rabbits. Frolicking in wonderlands. Worlds I've never known.

I have learned catastrophic amounts in the last eight weeks. About who I am. The ways I treat people. What my motives are. Plans. Thoughts of future. Fears. Truths.

We are conditioned. We believe because others tell us so. Here I am, in my head, delving, diving, discovering new realms I never knew existed.

We put ourselves in boxes because we are afraid. The world is too big. God is too big. Humanity. Hearts. Minds. Darkness. Too big. Light. Beauty. Truth. Warmth. The sun is too fucking big for us to fathom. So we shut ourselves in. We get stuck inside convention. Doing things the way they are always done. Because we are afraid.

I have learned how to let go.

I have been hurt. Offended. Ripped open. Guts all over the cold kitchen floor. Heart beating into oblivion. No more.

I got caught up with a man. A dark, twisted, insanely brilliant man. A man who has changed me. And I'd like to say for the better. But right now, I am caught up in my mind and if you asked me, I would lose it all. I would try and explain it all to you...the decisions I've made, and they would sound like jibberish to you, but here in my head, in MY head, it all makes sense. That I am changed for the better.

The man is 33. The age of Christ at death and resurrection.

The man is an arborist. Attuned to the fine pruning of trees. Trees I've been drawing in my journal for the past year.

The man is a writer, a poet.

The man is an artist.

The man is a musician.

The man is a basketball player.

The man is dreaming of hiking the PCT.

The man is.

The man is no more a part of my life. Here and then gone.

What started in a coffee shop has ended through a text message. The coffee shop is no more a part of either life. He is no longer a customer. I am no longer an employee.

I am on an endless journey, traipsing through tunnels of color and truth, discovering who this person is. This woman. Her name is Sabrina. But who is she really?

There's no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going.

Emotions are a waste he says.

I want to learn to play poker.

And I'm on the homeless kick again. Just spent time on craigslist looking for a van.

Which direction are we going. Blowing. It is snowing, somewhere in the world. But here in Santa Barbara the warmth on my skin is blissful.

It's all gonna be ok.