Boston

I went to Boston for a Red Sox vs Cardinals game. It was this first time on many years I had been in a city where the local population was higher then that of my state. So as we were driving through the city to get to Fenway Park I was staring in awe at the tightly packed apartments and town houses and giggling at the roof top gardens and hanging plants in sitting room windows. Humans worked years and years distorting the land so as to erase all trace of the wild it was before us. They pound the land into a flat wasteland they build and rebuild and pave and repave until they have nothing else to build and pave. And after all that they plant trees in rows, make as many parks as they can, and plant marigolds on roof tops cause there isn't any ground room for then. And I wondered... what do all these people do? Do they have a purpose for being here? Can there really be that many jobs in one city?
  Then I shifted my attention to the people themselves. Three teenagers laughing and walking quickly down the sidewalk. Business men and women in suits and skirts on their cell phones looking unhappy and rushed. People running. People talking. People lost in thought. People everywhere. The rush and business was intoxicating for a few moments but then i noticed their hair... and their shoes... and hand bags.
I suddenly felt like a stranger. An unwanted and despised lesser lowlife.
 Everyone had perfect hair. Mine was in a ponytail. I unconsciously reached up and touched it.
 Everyone had perfect shoes. Mine where DC skate shoes i bought on clearance and had worn to work and gotten cocking and paint on them.
 Every women had a beautiful hand bag. I had a camo wallet poking out of my back pocket.
I didn't belong here and that was a fact. I would get judge and laughed at and I didn't like it. I started looking for homeless people cause I could fit in with them much better.
Was i silly? Did i over react? I just wanted to be a copy of everyone else and fit into their picture.

Some Souls Are...

Have you ever heard the phrase "Dot judge a book by its cover"? I'm sure you have. And if you have I'm sure you know what it means. But in case you don't know I'll tell you. It means that you can't know someone just by observing them. You have to interact with them. Their outsides hardly EVER portray their true insides. 

But what exactly is on the "inside"? Something tangible like a stomach or blood? Something invisible like a spirt or a soul? Perhaps something personal like emotions, dreams, and fears. Or maybe it's the heart? That confusing organ that is tangible and invisible and personal.

So which one makes us who we are? What makes me Abby and you yourself? Is there more to us then are name, age, height and weight?

I say yes. it's a soul. 

A soul is different things to different people. To me it's your heart, your fears, dreams, wishes, passions, morals, quirks, and habits. 

Everyone's soul is different. And when I think of a soul I don't think of a name and a face. But I think of a color or a feeling, or a sound. My best friend is Bekah and when I think of her I see her soul. It's a rich blue flacked with sea green and rays of sunlight. She's a warm breeze, playfully tugging on my hair. And she is the song I love singing cause it never gets old.

That's how I see her soul. HER. That's how I see past her skin and hair and eyes. This outside parts change regularly but her blue-breezy-sun-lite soul just gets more complex but simpler as time goes on.

Some souls are old souls. Wise people but trapped in a young body. Some souls are young and will forever be excited and free.  Some souls are restless and can't find a place to belong.

Some souls are innocent. Some soul are angry. And some souls seem to have been born broken. Some souls are lonely and have a hole that they want to fill. They try to fill it with love or money or power or family. And all the filling in the world is like a cloud. It may look solid but if you except it to catch you you'll just fall right through. 

And there's a few rare souls who love with all their "hearts" and project rainbows in the dark.

So what kind of soul are you? 

The Almost Escape

I started walking.
Long and fast strides at first then I slowed to a slow walk. The woods folded in around me as I left the parking lot and the trail mouth behind. It was silent. The natural silence you find in the woods and forests and wild places. however, I was not so silent. I cringed and took my chain of keys off my belt and put them in my pocket so they didn't clang together so fiercely. The noise of the keys were frighteningly loud and harsh in the woods as I walked. I felt afraid that if I wasn't quiet enough thus disturbed the woods peaceful reflections I would not be welcome to walk down her winding paths and enjoy the sweet smells of spring she sent to my eager nose from every direction.
     Now I know the wood isn't a person or a being but it IS a presence. It may not speak but it is a community of a million living things that form its body. Like my own and your own bodies. I felt like a virus though. A parasite.
     I walked a little ways more then stopped. I was still too loud! My foot prints, breathing, even my own thoughts were too loud, almost thunderous. I bent down and took off my shoes and socks. I put the socks in the shoes and the shoes in my hand then kept walking.
That was better. I finally belonged. I sounded natural now, softer, and relaxed. I smiled to myself. The pain from the day still hung over me like the hawk that hovered over head in the sky. Still and frozen in place for a moment then suddenly diving and turning to catch some prey, that didn't see him coming, while simultaneously catching the eye of a person who hadn't seen him either.
I walked for a little in silence. Going wherever the trail took me. Winding first left trough some pines, then to the right through a small field dotted with blossoming apple trees, then left again through hardwoods but always slightly up. When the trail ended I was standing on a bolder looking out at a beautiful view of Lake Champlain through a gap in some trees. The sun was getting low, cause it was late in the afternoon The way it glittered on the water made it seem as if the lake water had been embossed with gold. A beautiful sight. A vulture flew out over the lake shore at eye level with me but didn't bother giving me a look.
     I looked at the trees and wondered if they noticed me... then I dismissed that thought. I was as fleeting to a tree as one flash a firefly makes is to us. In the lifetime of one tree hundreds of people are born, married, divorced, buried, and forgotten so why would this tree notice one little me.
    
     As I started back down the gently descending trail I was sad to think of my visit to this forest over. I was free here. Free from distraction, anger, frustration, pain, and guilt. Who would ever want to leave THIS and go back to all... THAT. I wanted to run deep into the woods and get lost there and become a tree, forgetting my cares and worries. Only bathing in sunlight, sheltering little forest critters, and growing. Always growing. Maybe I couldn't become a tree but I could run. "Run! Run! Run!" I told my feet. And they obeyed. The faster I ran the more of "me" I left free floating in the breeze behind me. Like the scattering ashes of a burning note from a once loved sweetheart.
My heart surged with this new found freedom. I pushed through the air faster until the thudding of my bare feet and the beating of my heart was just a hum in my ears. I ran harder until piece by piece my body was left behind and I was just a blur of energy racing to an uncharted place of peace and bliss. The only thing holding me to Earth were my feet. I tried so hard to lose them, to also leave them behind but they held me down like anchors but propelled me like a motor. It's lucky I didn't lose my feet because I might have simply floated away to who knows where. My body evaporated and just my soul left to wonder. I quite fancy that's how ghosts are formed. People who have shaken off their bodies and let their spirits float and wonder.
I was in this state for what seemed like days but was, in the confinements of human time, only 10 minutes. Somehow my body caught up to me and slowed me down and it was over. However the peacefulness still lingered like a smile after a good long laugh.

    I gently shut the door of my 2000 Honda Civic and smiled. It was bittersweet to be leaving my newest home. It was my medicine and my greatest (almost) escape.