A Spiritual Walk

As you may remember, in my previous blog I had taken notice of the fact that I no longer notice the world that I am living in. All of my passion for life or for living has ebbed away as I reached the ripe old age of 22.

So today I took action. I walked a path I've walked a hundred times before. In high school I used to walk, every morning, twenty minutes to my best friend's house just so that we could ride the same bus. My bus would have picked me up right in front of my driveway, but then I wouldn't have memories of nirvana, love spell body spray, and Jean's giggle while Beth applied foundation to her lips.

It was cold out, so I wore a tank top. I wanted to be able to feel the bite of the cold. I walked quickly, as I used to do, with my head down, glancing up occasionally to see kids on bikes or a lady walking her dog. I had my camera. I took pictures of plants and the street and my path. It didn't take as long as I thought it would to get there. It didn't take as long as I remembered. Maybe it was the lack of a 30 pound backpack.

At the end of a gravel road I saw a field. It was a corn field, though In February there was no corn , but rather lumpy rows of dirt and grass. I'd walked across that field a hundred times. More. I'd walked through it when it was only dirt, when it was grass and when the corn reached towards the sky. We had played hide and seek in that corn. In that field. I stepped onto it, afraid someone would see and yell at me for trespassing. The sun was sinking low in the sky. I laid on my belly to take a picture of the grass, green and tinted yellow at the tops from lack of rain.

I looked around. A car passed me, and then all was still. No one around. I double checked to make sure. And then I spread my arms wide, face upturned and I spun. I twirled in that field full of memories like a five year old. I felt like a five year old. I felt free and I felt connected. A single star shone above the tree tops and I did something I hadn't done in years. I made a wish.

I walked back home, the sun barely a streak of red in the sky. The world seemed to hold new meaning. I heard every sound, saw every flicker of light, smelled every scent. The world was more vivid and I was more alive.

Wishing on stars

"Star light,
Star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may,
I wish I might,
May I have this wish I wish tonight?"




When did I get too old to wish on stars? When did I become so pessimistic and cynical about the world? Even into high school my romantic heart fluttered at the thought of knights in armor, castles, faeries and true love. I used to lie on my bed, in my rose pink room, staring out the window at the miniature roses that bloomed there and think of of the wonderful things the world held for me. I imagined a world full of possibilities where people loved and helped each other. A world full of passion and grace and kindness.

Was it the death of my dreams that prompted my cynical view of the world? When I hurt my ankle in 2004 I not only came to the realization that I could not finish school for musical theater, but I realized that I wasn't good enough to sing professionally and I likely never will be. My love of and passion for music and the entire musical world was damaged knowing that I could not be a part of it.

Was it my broken heart? Realizing that the kind of love that existed in my head did not really exist in real life? Shortly after high school I found myself believing in knights in shining armor. Dark, mysterious, and passion filled relationships where everything always worked out. I wanted to be swept off of my feet with lavish and reckless abandon. I thought I had found that and my heart was shattered. Was this the beginning of my downfall?

Maybe it was simply the act of growing up and realizing that the world is a cold and cruel place most of the time. Yes, there are pockets of compassion, kindness, love, and passion. But no longer did I dance in the moonlight or twirl in fields of flowers. I no longer stood in the rain and shivered in pleasure at the feel of the heavy drops on my skin. These things now seem frivolous next to making sure the power doesn't get cut off or making sure the baby is fed. Maybe I'm simply too exhausted from just living to really enjoy things the way I used to.

Somehow I feel hollow. I have love, I have enough money for semi-comfort, I have family.. and yet I don't feel like I'm feeling love or happiness to it's fullest extent because I've managed to block out my passion and my sensitivity to the world around me. I'm numb to the world. Sure, I get hurt less, but I also live less.