Sometimes I feel as if I live in two worlds.
There is one world, a part of me, which rejoices in the act of watching a tree. It smiles at the way the dew drops catch the first morning rays and shimmer in the dawn, the way the leaves dance as the winds whisper through the boroughs, the way the tree sways as the first rain drops hit the ground. It is this part that enjoys the twinkling of stars on a dark cold night and cries in joy at the beauty of the ruby sun.
And then there is another. This part cries in sorrow… in pain. It longs for an escape, an alternate reality. It wallows in self-pity and ceaseless remorse. It struggles, resists and weakens. It is this world that I dread, where every word uttered is out of fear and every act enacted is a pretense. It is in this world that I know the real challenge lies. But I am afraid of exposing this bit of myself. This bit that thinks, feels and cries. As I wrestle with the ominous clouds of doom, I long for a voice, a touch, that will pull me out of this hopeless despair. I long for sweet repose. I long for connection. I long for answers. I long for a pair of eyes that say, “I know.”
And then I retire once again, into the chasms of the flower filled vales and cliffs. My joy knows no bound while I enjoy the orchestra of the chirping birds and the dance of the celestial orbs. I withdraw into this space of ceaseless wonder, this space which allows castles to build, fairies to fly and waters to flow. I find a smile in every frown and meaning in every face as I walk along, drinking it all in.
Blissfully unaware of the change that arrives, I gradually drift into the other world. The cringing and the irritation start as I wander though the clutter once again.
Perhaps this pursuit will end. Perhaps the lines will blur. Perhaps the face I have been searching for will appear. Perhaps one day, I will know.
Perhaps these bits aren’t worlds apart as I believe. Perhaps they are two sides of the same coin: Yin and Yang, Adam and Eve.
Perhaps, perhaps not.