Light Of Some Kind

I walked up the stairs and plopped down on the green wooden bench. Through the archway I watched the blustering winds blow the small, harsh snowflakes into a frenzy. They moved in every direction imaginable. They appeared irrepressible, lawless, wild. They flipped and spun and sang their freedom as though to do anything else would be a waste of time. They reminded me of such a truth. I sat and stared in silence as they danced within the chaotic whirlwinds like young lovers within the notes of jazz. It was beautiful. I smiled.

I took out my journal and reached for my pen. My fingers were stinging in the cold. The ink began to freeze underneath the cheap translucent plastic. I knew I had to hurry. I wrote, "It is snowing. I am so incredibly happy, for no real reason at all. It is just that I am here and alive and grateful." I closed the book and placed it back inside my oversized cherry bag. I sat there, quiet and peaceful in the eye of the storm, laughing softly to myself.

I am well aware that this next statement will sound lame, silly, and perhaps even a little bit dumb, but over the past few days I have suddenly found myself feeling very grown up. I have taken risks. I have dealt with situations with more courage and integrity than I ever knew I had within me. I have been taking care of myself. I have come to realize that taking care of myself doesn't mean that I am selfish, or that I should feel guilty, but only makes me more capable of taking care of others. The change has to begin with me. I have discovered that. I have been more calm and patient with my students, with myself, with those pieces of me that I am generally so quick to become frustrated with. I have sat down in silence and embraced those fragments of self loathing. I have not been afraid of imperfection. In fact, I have fallen in love with the idea.

In ways that are as simple as learning to take a hundred pictures and only get one that I like, to write a hundred pages and only be proud of a single word or phrase, to spend twenty three years on earth and only just now feel truly alive. I wake up in the morning, happy. I go to work and spend the first twenty minutes with my ipod on, dancing like a fool through the empty halls. I make plans for my evenings and stick to them. I go out to dinners and drink wine and have interesting, meaningful conversations. I reach out to old friends. I spend my free moments floating around the blog world. I support the arts. I sit on benches at train stations and write, and write, and write.

I have not turned on my television once all week. I have been eating when I'm hungry instead of just because. I have been listening to my body, what it needs, what it wants, what I can and should do for it. I have (as insignificant as it sounds) been wearing make-up to work, which is just another means of proving to myself that I deserve to feel pretty sometimes. I have felt pretty sometimes. I have answered every phone call, email and text. I have even initiated a few that were long overdue. I have not been hiding from people or events or my life. I have not allowed myself to feel awkward. I know who I am. I am one step closer to liking who I am. I am standing on the edge of acceptance.

My coworkers ask me what's going on. They tell me I am glowing. I smile and think, that is simply life brewing inside me. That is simply the radiating light of my pulsating heart as it rises and falls a million times a day. That is simply who I feel I was meant to be and who I feel myself becoming. I glow with life. I am alight with happiness. I am dancing within the chaotic whirlwinds like young lovers within the notes of jazz. And it is beautiful. And I smile.