In my head, it feels heavy today. The feeling of heaviness disappears and suddenly I feel nothing. As I stand here not knowing what's going on, the winds since morning blow the same way they usually do but seem to have a kind of warmth they rarely do. Its summer but the clouds tell me that it'll rain today.
Its evening and I'm walking alone at this garden having no one around. When it pours, I feel sadder. Sadder than I felt in the afternoon. I don't understand why, when it rains, do I feel so lost. Lost or perhaps, I feel most comfortable when it rains. It contradicts. Like I've come home. Not where I belong, but somewhere I can stay for a while. Until I recognize the next clear path that seemed foggy some time ago.
Is it always about keeping up with our pathways and not about pausing for a moment because we've come a long way? Is it always about knowing everything and not about being real and admitting we're still learning?
I am on my way to understand this revolution is really a revolution. Its about everything. Its not only about inviting a pocket full of new something but also about knowing what it really was when I let go of old everything.
Sometimes its hard to stop and breathe for a while if I haven't known breathing.
And now there are One Hundred and One of you. And I wish if only I could write you letters for all the love you spread here in this tiny space that I occupy. If only I could swim in an ocean of the ink I'd choose to write you letters in.
Because some things; some things are hard to write about.