The chill of the crisp night embraces my face, it’s the only part of my body that’s exposed. I’m wearing multiple layers. I’m curled up in a sleeping bag, sitting on a small, outside couch underneath a crystalline, cloudless night sky. My favorite and talented photographer interprets the vast darkness of the sky, speckled endless stars with his camera. The beauty of Oak Creek is the lack of artificial light. The stars dance vibrantly, happy to be seen.
When was the last time you stared at the stars? Or at nature?
Ironically enough, as I am writing this, I’m not fully enjoying my breathtaking starry night. But I need to unload my mind.
When was the last time you paused and looked around? Consciously acknowledging your surroundings. Your. Present. Moment.
When was the last time you took a deep breath and felt life? Pure. Raw. Unequivocally real.
Blink. The last 24+ hours are a blur.
I feel as if I am just sort of gaining back some of my consciousness. And yet, I still feel the dense and foggy layer of surreal incredulousness.
Yesterday morning I got a jarring call, rather early in the morning.
I woke up to the empty, shivering sobs of my best friend. Her father, and a father figure to me as well —I’m blessed to say that our friendship goes way back to our early teens— left his body behind. His soul is on to new adventures. Lighting the universe up as he goes. Warm carcajadas and a Joyous, Wise, and Kind soul.
Blink. Up until then, I have been in a state of bliss. Happily intrappolando each moment, as much as I can.
I’ve learned to conquer my mind. Face my fears. Get stronger in my recovery. All of this simply by being in nature. She teaches you patience. Discipline. If you want to explore her, you must be completely submerged in the present moment. No time for petty negative comments. Or other worries.
I’ve discovered a new side of me. I’m actually quite good at bouldering —but I’d say I’d be great at rock climbing as well—. Once you start climbing, you must keep your mind on your next move. Concentration is key. Self-awareness is crucial. You learn to control your mind. You definitely don’t want to fall while climbing up towards the top of Bell Rock.
Blink. And just like that, I return to the heavy reality of his absence. Of my hollow pain of a new reality. One that we’re all bound to face.
Blink. Death is just a normal part of life. Why does She hurt so much? Why is She so unpredictable. Why doesn’t She make any sense?
Blink. Death feels so present. And she’s an infinite sea of mystery. Does she truly hold the answers?
I just know that with time we become alchemists. We adjust. We continue. We grow. We learn to laugh and love, with the pain that comes along the way.
Blink, this is post is almost late.
An incurable passion for writing; a poet at heart. I am a writer on the road.