Let fondness be our souvenir
To keep it warm, we’ll keep it near
It’s been a while again, friends, but I am still here. There is this tendency in me to disappear every now and again. I have been formulating, as I like to say.
For those that listen to the songs I link here, this is a throw back that is still near and dear to the heart. There are times where I find I can’t listen to the songs I’ve had since high school, but every now and again I get into the perfect mood where the song is absolutely what I need to hear.
Tonight, there is a full moon. It is my favorite time of month, especially in the winter. The way the moon suddenly lights every empty field and shines on every bare tree. The sweetness of a deep cold breath of air. Frost forming on the sun roof on my car and I felt myself reaching toward it, pressing my palm against the chill window. I wanted to just reach up and grab hold of the moon as it shone brightly on the windy road to some place I call home.
There is something romantic about a bright moon in the dead of a winter night that I have always found revitalizing. Somehow these are the nights I always wish I was spending with someone else, but am always alone. They seem like the nights to peruse a not so well-beaten path, to wander in the night with a false sense of security and to just fall off the grid until morning comes.
The way the light shone on my hand, through the window and out across the land. It’s the way snow feels at night. Fresh, clean and a beautiful kind of flat.
It feels electrifying to then open the sun-roof and reach my hands out of it, up toward this thing I will never grasp or understand. It reminds me of summer nights too, where the windows are down and my hand becomes like a wave moving up and down between posts and power lines. There is a freedom in it that I so seldom feel anywhere else.
Like driving down 81 in the middle of the night, headed to a place that is neither here nor there. You feel as if you could be driving anywhere. A road without memorable places, a pavement that drones on without pace or aim. And to just roll down the windows, with a familiar song at play and just scream. Scream the words that speak so earnestly to your soul and feel free in the moment of flying down a paved road.
There is this feeling I get from time to time when listening to a song. The feeling is this: the song is flowing into me, through my finger tips and slowly reverberating until it reaches and comes out of my lips. It is that sincerest feeling of joy. The joy that comes from hearing a song that flows so well in every aspect of the moment and reminds you of those places and people portfolioed into your home. Yes, I realize portfolioed may not be a word, but it’s just a part of this moment where you feel that every ounce of life is both flowing into and out of you at the same time. And you feel light. You feel what it might be like to fly without thousands of tons of metals surrounding you.
Those feelings do not change. They come and go and I am grateful more for their coming than their going, always.
Changeless. I am not convinced anything remains that way. Each time I make the drive from house to home, I am confronted by the same road, but not the same obstacles. There is always an altercation. There is always something different than before, but what remains the same is the outline.
I am a year out from where this journey began and I feel incredibly grateful.
I think that maybe being changeless does not mean to in fact never change. It’s the base-level, the ground, the foundation. There is a foundation in me that is unchanging, but instead faltering at times. There are aspects in my personality that lie dormant for periods of times for reasons unknown. What I know is that I always come back to the core parts of who I really am.
There is a core in everything. There is this beat, this rhythm that we want to keep time to, but we can’t always seem to keep up or to stay behind.
As I look at where I am now and where I was, I think that perhaps it doesn’t necessarily pay more to look forward or to look behind. Looking back, I feel nostalgic for times that are not still here. But life inevitably moves forward and I feel I can’t forever dwell on the things that pass other than to keep those moments changeless in my mind. The beautiful part of memories in my mind is that they are the one place where things exist perfectly. The good moments will forever stay good in your mind. There is no tampering, no loss, no change of the mood or moment. That memory is forever yours.
Looking forward has been a fear of mine in ways. There is a certain danger in being a dreamer. There is always the possibility that your dreams will be dashed, left in bits on the reef, but the hope to succeed keeps you forever moving along.
The things that will remain changeless are few, but I will continue to be a dreamer and hope that the ones I hold dear do.
There are things that I often think, but never find the courage to say. I think it’s best to realize that things are sometimes worth more to say than they are to not say.
And rather than continue to write words that are not quite desrcript, but also not cryptic, I think it’s best to leave it where it began..