High💨💨💨 Desert Times
As we sit in a blissful warmth on this Wednesday morning of June 19th in the High 💨💨💨 Desert, surrounded by infinate scenic beauty, I can't help but be grateful for the path I have chosen through this chaotic life. While I definitely do regret certain decisions and lack of better timing in some circumstances, I can't really be angry, disgruntled or upset about the outcome. I have systematically found a way to be who I needed me to be, and I mean that in every sense. From a small child I knew I was different. Simple as that. I felt a constant nag from all angles to help alleviate the strains of the earth. Sometimes I can feel her reach out to me, she reaches out by causing pause in the air, dilating my eyes to see into the mirage. The wavy texture that takes place between the crust of the earth and the atmosphere that is rapidly sucking her away. The shocking blue against the desert sand is blinding, but the image is clear, clear as day. All the fighting I have done against my body, my mind, this American institution that I am forced to live in, it can't be for nothing.
As a kid I used to feel like this life was a punishment for possibly doing something wrong in a past life. Why else would my brain hate my body so much? The internal clawing at my own skin from the inside out felt the same as a root growing through the ground. Pushing its ever changing size and coarseness through your skin between the muscles and bones, using the body as a feeding ground. But no one ever hears your screams of agony as you progressively suppress the hatred you've learned to love.
As the years pass, resilience comes with time, just as patience comes with virtue. This mirage is nothing but a horse shoe, they say it's in place to sustain the hoof but must be replaced for longevity.
Isn't it time we replace the entire shoe? By replace I mean, get rid of. Let the stallions of the earth gallop in freedom if they so choose, let the mares be with their foals.
She pulls me still after all this work... I'm still listening to her in the voices of the trees, in the howling of the wind, in the grains of the sand as they slip through my fingers and clank against the sand beneath. Those vibrations are the applause for her, for the earth. The smallest amount of praise can move mountains, the key is which mountains are we willing to move together?