Today I felt like a victim of circumstance. I guess I can’t call myself a victim because in reality I do have a choice. I am living the best life I can live without having to do anything too scary or dramatic. I have the ability to make sweeping changes in my life and yet I don’t. Because I’m 75% happy. But of course that is all on a relative scale. It’s only 4/5 of what I would consider my most content moments in life. And things could be worse. The thing that worries me, is that inside of my gut, underneath where my burrito is sitting at this very moment, there is a little voice calling out for more. More fulfillment, more peace, more joy, more harmony. He knows that while of course I have quite a lovely little life compared to most, things could in fact be BETTER. And as much as I try to quell his inquisitive nature by pointing each and every thing of beauty in my day, his urging is relentless. He (let’s call him Bucha) wants more.
I have known what it feels like to drink in everyday like sipping on cool lemonade. Tart, juicy, sweet, and tangy. Nice and slow. Through a straw. I yearn for those days… I try with a fierce intensity to make the best out of each day. To maintain a balance between “need to” and “want to.” Yet I know something is not working. Life is not as juicy as it once was, and believe me, I need the juice. I live for the JUICE. Juice, you say? What does one (me) mean by “juice?” I mean living like you meant it! I mean the slippery, tingly, excitement of feeling inspiration course through your bones. I am a little disheartened to find out that I am in fact not content to live a mediocre life. I fear ignorance is bliss, and at times I wish I was a tad more on the dim side of refulgence. I know Jennie feels me on this one… Speaking of Boots- She is a lovely example of living a slow, passionate filled life. When I speak to her, her contentedness further inspires my pursuit of this kind of hands-on, joyful living. During our conversations I am stripped of my ability to rationalize the kind of faced past life I currently lead. So the question of the hour is: Do I need to leave it all behind and immerse myself in a country/community that understands and encourages the slow life?
As I sat observantly on the BART today, I searched transiting strangers’ faces for hints of secret satisfaction. I was waiting for a smirk, a wild laugh- some marker of interminable inner joy. I guess I was hoping for a reason to believe that a nine-to-fiver, living in the city can have the glow. Instead I mostly came across uncomfortable looking suited men, wiry-haired seniors in tracksuits, and high-school couples mackin’ in the back seat. Maybe this can be attributed to my 1pm commute on a Thursday (Suited men uncomfortable because they were playing hooky, same for the teens, and sport-attired seniors… well they might have been on a tour?) I did occasionally spot a biker or two smiling from ear to ear. But they were probably on an adrenaline high from just running a red light, or a cutting off a car…Smug bastards. I still have yet to find hope…
I have known what it feels like to drink in everyday like sipping on cool lemonade. Tart, juicy, sweet, and tangy. Nice and slow. Through a straw. I yearn for those days… I try with a fierce intensity to make the best out of each day. To maintain a balance between “need to” and “want to.” Yet I know something is not working. Life is not as juicy as it once was, and believe me, I need the juice. I live for the JUICE. Juice, you say? What does one (me) mean by “juice?” I mean living like you meant it! I mean the slippery, tingly, excitement of feeling inspiration course through your bones. I am a little disheartened to find out that I am in fact not content to live a mediocre life. I fear ignorance is bliss, and at times I wish I was a tad more on the dim side of refulgence. I know Jennie feels me on this one… Speaking of Boots- She is a lovely example of living a slow, passionate filled life. When I speak to her, her contentedness further inspires my pursuit of this kind of hands-on, joyful living. During our conversations I am stripped of my ability to rationalize the kind of faced past life I currently lead. So the question of the hour is: Do I need to leave it all behind and immerse myself in a country/community that understands and encourages the slow life?
As I sat observantly on the BART today, I searched transiting strangers’ faces for hints of secret satisfaction. I was waiting for a smirk, a wild laugh- some marker of interminable inner joy. I guess I was hoping for a reason to believe that a nine-to-fiver, living in the city can have the glow. Instead I mostly came across uncomfortable looking suited men, wiry-haired seniors in tracksuits, and high-school couples mackin’ in the back seat. Maybe this can be attributed to my 1pm commute on a Thursday (Suited men uncomfortable because they were playing hooky, same for the teens, and sport-attired seniors… well they might have been on a tour?) I did occasionally spot a biker or two smiling from ear to ear. But they were probably on an adrenaline high from just running a red light, or a cutting off a car…Smug bastards. I still have yet to find hope…
Have you ever had someone walk by you who just had “it”? “It” has nothing to do with appearance or physical shape, but energy. No matter what their objective attractiveness (is there such a thing?) is, they are like a magnet. There is fire and earth radiating from their stride. Their eyes are focused and clear as their body bounds joyfully towards their next enlivening experience. They emanate the good gooshy gooshy. You can just tell they have their shit together. Definitely a rarity… Like seeing a shooting star. Sometimes I follow them in hopes of discovering their secret.
I am in pursuit because that is how I felt when I was living in Costa Rica studying to become a yoga instructor. Each day unfolded with clarity and inspiration. I emanated yumminess. I remember writing in my journal that I was filled with “so much love and gratitude” that I likened myself to balloon ready to either float off into the sky or burst. I was every cliché in the book, and damn it felt niiiiiice. My life was slow and full of affirmation. Gimme more.
I need it back. And I need it to be my life. The question is: how do I get it?
I need it back. And I need it to be my life. The question is: how do I get it?
The bigger problem is: once I figure it out, can I leave all of the beautiful, soulful parts of my life in Oakland behind to commit myself to it?
-Java
-Java
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