Pieces of My Spontaneous Self

I can listen.  I can really listen.  I listen to the way the waves roll onto the shore.  The way the insects chirp and the birds sing, and the way the rain dances on the windowpanes. I listen to the laughter of the people who’s hearts are pumping with pure unfettered joy and to the tears that come from the person weeping on their knees as sorrow fills them to the brim. I listen to people.  I listen to their stories of elation and bliss where joy is the primary factor of their livelihood.  I listen to their stories of pain and suffering where grief and despair takes its toll.  It’s like this raw invitation to take a peek into their lives and truly get a grasp of who it is they are, to connect with them and understand them more fully.  I listen in the silence to hear the voice of the Maker whispering in my ear, urging me to come closer and closer and closer. 

I can feel a plethora of emotions that plunge into the depth of my mind. My mind, which is always in a whir, overflowing with complicated thoughts and ideas, driving me with this imperative nature to share with other people, or to fill a piece of paper with ink and words as profound as I know how.  I take a lot of time to think things through and to examine why so many things take place so that we might find so much joy or why we might find so much pain.  I can feel fear, it’s icy breath threatening to swallow me whole and destroy any ounce of courage or confidence within my fragile frame.  But I can also feel boldness as it takes root to my core and blossoms through my ribcage, creating no room for fear to place its sleeted fingers.  My feelings scatter throughout my body, itching to take control.  But these feelings, these emotions can’t direct this vessel.  Only one may steer this ship as I seek the Maker that guides me through a voyage of uncharted waters.

I can smell the earth after it rains.  I like storms.  They show me that even the sky has a yearning to cry sometimes.  The aroma of petrichor, so vibrant of life and things yet to be explored, the flowers bloom revealing a scent of pleasant surprise, may they always remind us of why the rain was so necessary.  An adventure arises on the currents of the wind as I desire to experience new places, people, things and ideas.  Who can know what to expect? What might lie ahead?  Only the Master Storyteller knows how this tale will unfold.                                                          

I can taste the bitter sweetness found on the tip of my tongue right after I say “goodbye” for I know in some hidden language of the heart it translates to “stay.”  I miss a lot of memories and sometimes I wish I could go back in time, not to change things, but to relive a couple of unforgettable moments that helped shape the person I am today.        

I can see the galaxies in a person’s eyes as they glow with excitement.  Just as easily I can see the storm clouds in their eyes, as the rain runs down their flushed cheeks.  If I look carefully, for the first moment our eyes meet, the truth of their feelings will reveal itself, just for a second, before it is blinked away.  I can see the stars as they shine in the pitch-blackness of the night- their light never fearing to outshine the dark.  A light so confident and surreal it isn’t ashamed or frightened to shine when the darkness threatens to enclose them.  Still they burn bright, through the midst of it all.  

I have also seen in black and white, because I chose to block out color.  I told myself there was no use for color, because to live in a society such as this I must paint a picture of something dreary, negligent of anything bright.  No light.   But that didn’t last long.  Because I could also see in colors not known to the human eye.  Colors of exuberance, so bright and cheerful it makes me wonder how there could ever be any form of sorrow in this world.  Those colors. That cheerfulness. They broke through my vision of black and white.  Because a world of no color, no light could only bring heartache and grief.  I didn’t want that.       

I can learn.  I am learning.  I’ve learned that I still have so much more to learn.  Not just in the big things, but in the little things too.  I’ve learned the need to think before I speak, to listen with an ear so fond of taking in the grace of lively laughter and every anguished cry.  I’ve learned to be gentle with the part of me that feels so deeply, and holds on to it for far too long.  I’ve learned to trust not in myself, but in the One who knows me better than I could ever know myself.  The One who allows the sky to cry, but also cover the fields in flowers of every kind, so that we would remember the necessity of the rain.  I’ve learned to be thankful for moments of my life that I hold so dear.  Not to be sad because it is over, but to be glad it was once mine.  I’ve learned to see in color.  Colors so bright it reveals the beauty of the light and everything I once was missing.  Now the light lies open and raw for my skin to soak in, and my lips to taste the drink of sunshine that is so generous with its rays.

I believe.  I believe in love.  Because love is powerful, and it blossoms no matter the soil.  Love is infinitely valuable.  It makes everything brighter, it makes people who have it stronger, it breaks unbreakable bonds, it has no limits and it never disappoints.  I am dramatic when I talk about the people I love, the places I love, the memories I love because I love with an awakening.  I believe in the Creator.  I believe in the Creator like I believe in the light- not because I can see it, but by it I can see everything else.  My Creator, Christ Jesus, is the light.  And He is love.   

I can grow.  I can continue to grow in the audacity to believe in the light no matter the darkness that surrounds me.  I can grow in the Creator and His infinite wisdom and knowledge and trust that He knows what is best for my life.  May His light and love run like a wild river within me, reflecting every piece of my spontaneous self.