Life speeds by and before we know it, we’re looking back more often than looking ahead. Somehow, I feel like these thoughts should be happening thirty years from now, rather than at the age of thirty-three. I wonder why at the moment does it seem insignificant, but looking back it is exactly what I long for? Why is there a desire to capture the simple things, but a hesitation to establish or recognize new ones? Perhaps that is the beauty in it all, random events versus forced. The lack of simplicity coupled with escalating complexity has created a silent discontent within my own life. Finding the brake to slow this ride eludes me. Occasionally, there is a lull, but the momentum quickly builds, leaving me scrambling once again seeking the eventual stop I know is out there.
As a child, everyday normal to even boring events seemed to be a constant occurrence. One doesn’t realize that those snippets over time actually mount up to a nugget of significance; a time of uniqueness that would be difficult to duplicate, only cherished. During my childhood there were simple things initiated by my family or myself, which created an experience now savored.
Summers were filled with handstands in swimming pools or lakes; I wasn’t one to discriminate. There was something soothing about viewing the underwater world upside down; chubby belly hidden by the water and clumsy legs exposed to the sun. I would do my best to gracefully keep my legs together and point toes towards the sky like a ballerina, but I knew the result continued to be a wobbly V shape. My parents would compliment my performance each time, as if improvement was really being made. They knew all was good; the joy of a simple handstand after handstand would fill the afternoon. Read More »