when life is short...

Sometimes you just have to stop, close your eyes and let the world slow down.
Sometimes life simply moves too fast.

I had to do this today. It might have taken a governmental authority to physically stop me,
flashing blue and red lights and all... just. to. get. me. to. stop.
Mourn. Mourn change. Mourn age. Mourn memories. Memories that are no longer reality.
Maturing girls who are no longer tender little children but adults, with real problems, real struggles, and real sadness.
Adults who the life they look back at is a longer life, than the life that lies ahead.
And even older adults who think more about saying goodbye than hello.

So I slowed down today, I stopped racing from one errand to the next, I stopped.
I sat in my car and wept. Not knowing at first why I was weeping, but then realizing, this one simple reality. Life is short, and it moves too fast. Before we know it, the treasures of today will be distant and fading memories.

How am I holding on to the treasures of this moment? How am I giving this reality here and now my everything before it does become a memory. May I give my best, all that I am, in this moment. With this parent, sister, brother, grandmother, grandfather, friend, patient, person. So that when it does become a memory, it's cherished, full, complete, and free from any regret.

when love wins...

          Lately, infrequent and treasured mornings off have been savored on a cool breezy patio at my parents house. Other than the hours of mesmerized gazes at the rushing waterfall in front of me, surrounded by brightly colored tropical plants under the shade of aged oak trees; many cups of coffee have been sipped, books have been devoured, treasured memories have been journaled, prayers silently prayed and lengthy day dreams have been dreamt. This has been "my place", my place of comfort, of leisure, of retreat, of rejuvenation. It has been my place that I can escape to, the place that strengthens me to go back to the blaring, busy world, filled with people, problems and pain. 

        

          Although today is different than most days I've spent here. Today there's a little bit of sadness in my heart, but a lot of celebration. The days of enjoying my mornings here in "my place" will end soon. This season is coming to a close, but a new season is beginning, one that has been waiting for me for a long, greatly anticipated time. For a moment I set aside the peace and quiet of the morning, disrupted only by the red birds singing in the background, and allowed an unexpected interruption by DJ Antoine's throbbing techno rendition of, "This Time" fill my ears. Before I knew it, with the help of the high dose of caffeine I had already consumed this morning, a little dance party broke out between Nikita and I. Tears began streaming down my eyes at the realization of what our little celebratory party was really about.

            I go through random phases when I love house music. I always find my unquenchable love for those crazy beats bizarre, being that most of my music taste is completely opposite than its synthesized drum machines, hi-hat symbols, and repetitive 4/4 beats. It energizes me, inspires me to unpack all my "high on life" feelings that sometimes drown in the the mundane of today, and it reminds me of that little, "wild and crazy Britany" that my more mature, sophisticated side tries to pretend does not exist.

            Today as Nikita and I carelessly jam, in the best, middle of suburbia, back porch, bed-head, and pj's kind-of way, I'm reminded of my last techno obsessed phase. I'm reminded of the way I was drawn to its blaring beat that took over all of the audible space in my brain, without any remaining room for the too often plaguing thoughts, questions, fears, convictions, and disappointments of those days. When life was silent the piercing screams in my brain took over. "Has everything I have ever believed actually been a lie? Are all the dreams of what I hoped my life would become destroyed forever? Will anyone ever love me again if they knew all that I have done? Will I ever taste the thirst quenching fountain of peace again?" Peace. The only medicine that could truly quiet my anxious soul. The only cure for the calamity of noise in my brain. Peace was no where to be found. And so that synthesized beat played on, and on. It became the jolt of electricity that drove my lifeless soul, the only force that kept the rigor mortis from setting in. It diminished insecurity, empowered irresponsibility, and birthed a false sense of immortality. Most of all it became the drug that transplanted me into another psychedelic world, where nothing else mattered, but that one strobe lit, fog smothered moment.

            And this is when the tears began to flow. Flooded with memories of resignations to never delight in that techno beat again, convinced it would only ever remind me of my destructive addicted state. But today Nikita and I danced to a new found beat. The pride in my heart paralleled the recovering alcoholic in the moment it was time to pick up that treasured chip, marking six months of accomplished sobriety. For a moment time stopped, I breathed deep, fresh air fills my lungs, the Peace I once longed for hydrates my heart, and the Love that I thought I would never know, actually never left me. I wake up every morning in its embrace, and I drift off to sleep to the whisper of its affections at night. And I am carried throughout the day with the beautiful rhythm of it's song. And now, with tear filled eyes in this suburban solitude, we jam. Because today these electronic beats no longer serve to silence a war infested mind, but to celebrate what happens when Love wins.