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Whiskey-kissed Roads (When rain leads to memories)

Sometimes I sit down and playback a years worth of memories in my head. A timeline of meaningful occurrences, both devastating and heartwarming. I remember the love that got away and the reasons I had to let it. I remember the tragedy that I swept under rugs weaved of smiles and whiskey-kissed romances. I remember hard choices, poor choices and the ones that cut deep because they were the right choices. I try to be honest with those memories.

 

Sometimes I sit down with a cup of herbal tea and I don’t really know how I got here. I wonder how I could be somewhere so wildly different if I had allowed the choices to lead me. I wonder about who I could be and where, if anyone, anywhere at all. It all happens so gradually that we can never really see it coming until we're holding it... or shoving it away.

 

I am a sensitive disposition. A compassionate heart. A dreamer with an imagination so vivid it sometimes skews my ability to navigate reality. I am a woman on a white horse galloping into fires to save those that started them because, just maybe, they needed warmth.

 

I’m a worrier. A warrior. I’m a human that considers all the ways in which my steps vibrate outward and shake the world of others. And i’m sorry to those that have lost balance from the vibrations of my movements, I was only living the best I could in the moment.

 

I am a woman seeking to understand her complicated ways. Trying to find her way, mostly. A woman that still feels like a scared girl, sometimes, when the door knocks or the floors creak and the sounds come crashing down in piles of dark memories.

 

I am trying. 

To breathe. 

To live deeply. 

To love. 

To give. To receive. 

To reopen doors long ago nailed closed. 

To move gracefully. Courageously. Happily.

 

I am trying to listen to that compass-voice in my body that tells me which way to move.

 

I am more wild than tame, sometimes. My instincts carry me too far away from my evolved place of reason. Primal vs Prefrontal. 

 

But it’s the wildness in me that feeds the beauty in me. The passion. The drive. The art.

It’s the wilderness that teaches me the lessons that save me.

 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

 

 

 

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December 13, 2016

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