it's funny how life makes sense the moment you stop talking, when you drive down abandoned roads and look out at the fields. interesting how life seems to whisper in your ear the moment you unplug yourself, when you close your eyes in the dead of night and listen to the birds hum, the leaves sway. you feel lost and alone. you seek forgiveness. you find a solitude you never thought possible. how one song on the radio can change your perspective. how one kid can change the course of life for you. how one hiccup in conception can make or break you.
we're not meant to stare at computers or be addicted to social media. we're not meant to be attached to iPod's or have tumblr accounts. we're meant to walk to the middle of nowhere and lose ourselves--to forget about the existence of time. we're meant to stare at the sun and hope for the moon--to watch the galaxies pass as we lay out on the dewy grass. we're meant to forget hate, war, and aggression--trade it in for a new kind of peace. we're meant to discover new things about our earth, discover what it is meant to be alive.
i talked to a friend recently and told her i was not crazy. ever since i was a little kid, four or five, i saw things. at first they were beautiful neon lights and swirling bursts of color shadowed by a mysterious feeling. i grew up believing in further realms beyond the one we see with our two eyes. a mystical, magical world of unknown possibilities. as i aged, i talked to "invisible" people. spiritual beings that felt like humans. they listened and understood my stories and i listened to their stories, in return. after my grandfather died, at age nine, i saw his spirit. it walked beside me on the sidewalk, it sat beside me on the couch, and sometimes it would stand in my doorway as i was falling asleep. even though his body was gone, i still saw him everywhere i looked. i talked to him, i laughed with him, and i even cried with him. babies, little kids, and even animals see a different world that most of us will never experience. it wasn't until society deemed me as "mentally ill" i became afraid of myself, of my ability to "see" things other's couldn't. our society wants us to be afraid, wants us to shut down our special gifts and, in turn, hand us a pill to take. years and years of doctors--they'll all tell me the same thing until i die. but it's within my heart of hearts that i know nothing is wrong with me. i am not sick.
the best therapist i ever had believed in me. through the power of creating art and writing i would expand my thoughts, once again, and return to that mystical world, that mysterious sense of being. she taught me how to meditate when i became paranoid, how to let go and let god, to just breathe when the world started spinning. she was my mentor, a bigger sister i never had. she saw the light that was buried within me and she fought like hell to dig it out. she never gave up on me, never gave up hope. she gave me my passion back. she taught me how to live. i spent six years of my life in the company of this woman and it is to her that i dedicate my art, my life.
we're meant to find a purpose, to teach someone we've never met everything we know. to walk down the street and look someone straight in the eye, make them wonder what it was they were staring at. i suppose we are just meant to be alive, to wonder, always.