I’m finally feeling better, had a weird cold lately. It’s hanging on, but I’m determined to kick it to the curb like a bad habit. Don’t gimme that eyebrow, clichés are fun sometimes. I’m currently amped up on a Pumpkin Spice Latte so I should warn you to expect a similar “spiced” attitude for this post.
I’m so ready for Fall/Autumn/Harvest…whatever you want to call it. My trigger finger is itching to catch photos of the vivid hues of the season as the leaves on the trees blend magically together in golds, reds, browns, yellows and oranges. How absolutely fascinating to sense the change in the air: the sharp cool undertone in the midst of the warmer air. I love the way the cooled earth, leaves, and bark seem to intermingle into a brand new and yet entirely familiar perfume. What a reminder about the endless possibilities this earth holds ready for our discovery!
This may be the time of year when I desire to shake things up. Some people cut their hair for Summer, but I cut it in the Fall just in time to let my neck freeze during the Winter. Sensible, no? Think of how much we would miss if we were always sensible though? How many moments slip through that hourglass unnoticed, unmarked, unclaimed? I’m terribly guilty of getting sidetracked, of finding importance in the mundane things of life, while I fail to mark moments with those who matter the most to me. What’s worse is that once I let myself lose that spark of fire and adventure, I can’t seem to get it back. It’s like the concrete of the world paved over the struggling bright green blades of grass and they can’t find their way to the sunlight any longer. I’m stronger than the grass though, so I’ll continue to try and remember what it was like to be a child, to enjoy the little things, to appreciate people, opportunities, and moments.
I want to be the person that pulls off the side of the road for an impromptu Frisbee game; to dance in the park like no one is watching just from the sheer joy of being alive on this world. I’ll probably be spending the next few weeks trying to remember what it was like to feel joy, regardless of circumstances, and to express that joy without concern for an audience whose opinion does not really matter. If someone wants to criticize me for my outbursts of joy, for claiming the moments of my life as my own, let them. This life is too short to let the ridiculous judgment of the unhappy settle on my shoulders like a leaden cape. The only cape I want to be wearing is a superhero one, so now I guess it’s time to be my own hero. No one else can truly be the hero of my life if I want to write my own story. It’d be a little absurd to be the main character in my story, and have someone else be the superhero. Silliness.
So, this goes out to everybody trying to reclaim their joy, live in the moment, and to be the superhero in their own stories.