I woke up today feeling inspired and renewed. Met up with my younger cousin last night after a (spring) quarter apart and like the last time we hung out, the meet’s… interesting. She’s twenty, twenty too young yet convinced she’s twenty too old, which therefore always leaves me feeling too much my age. We’re only four years apart truth be told, yet funnily, a generation apart. My soul feels aged against her vibrant youth.
So much to share, too many stories to tell.
I started my morning unpacking my last box of items namely my books. Now my book collection is back on my shelves again, in this old-slash-renewed-home. It’s silly to admit this aloud, maybe, but having my books back on my shelf makes me feel so happy and a lot more like myself, as if all of me have at last made the long journey back home.
And I guess this is it.
Like I said, I woke up today feeling inspired and renewed …which might be as close to a sign that it is time to close this chapter of my life – the one where my undergraduate and grad school life and all those adventures abroad I experienced, live in. They were magical, poignant, and defined my coming-of-age like nothing else I could’ve ever imagined, but yessir, maybe it is as good a time as any to stop bringing up a past well-lived and vividly experienced because in the memorable words of my mother – of course – “if you’re not dead, you’re not out.”
Life goes on and so must I.
And indeed I started my morning right because while unpacking my books, I did a quick read of Sarah Kay‘s No Matter The Wreckage (brilliant poetry book, by the way) and came across this one, which honest-to-God, is myself right now.
“When I am inside writing,
all I can think about is how I should be outside living.
When I am outside living,
all I can do is notice all there is to write about.
When I read about love, I think I should be out loving.
When I love, I think I need to read more.
I am stumbling in pursuit of grace,
I hunt patience with a vengeance.
On the morning when my brother’s tired muscles
held to the pillow, my father used to tell him,
For every moment you aren’t playing basketball,
someone else is on the court practicing.
I spend most of my time wondering if I should be somewhere else.
So I have learned to shape the words thank you
with my first breath and each morning, my last breath every night.
When the last breath comes, at least I will know I was thankful
for all the places I was so sure I was not supposed to be.
All those places I made it to,
all the loves I held, all the words I wrote.
And even if it is just one moment,
I will be exactly where I am supposed to be.”
— Sarah Kay, The Paradox
And so I continue to begin again, yet again.