A Hero’s Journey
What first blossoms at a beginning first glance will (hopefully) evolve into eye-contact and so on and so forth with each forthcoming level of intimacy. To want to change, to want to become, to want to grow are the only choices we are given when it comes to loving another, and our imagination, whether optimistic or pessimistic, is our pen is in hand, guiding beginnings and endings and placing the people in our story as life-long lessons.
The lessons we learn are what we keep close to our heart, to rid ourselves of fear and to instill fight, flight or freeze alike. Where my parents chose to put their Odyssey on hold, I picked it up and ran through a few foundational life- themes faster than any 11 year old I knew at the time. It is an odd predicament we find ourselves in when we wake up one day and everything we once knew looks a little different. Does this happen when our short-term memory turns our slowmotion moments into long-term memory or when the feelings our heart subconsciously administered at an unpredictable stir finds the door to our conscious, begging our identity for attention? “Cogito ergo sum” or “I think, therefore I am” is put to the philosophical test each time we acquire a new characteristic.
What I mean to say is that all of our stories follow the foundation of a Hero’s Journey archetype. People who made us who we are today suddenly become montages, bringing forth inspiration for the next chapter in our lives which do not operate on a measurable timeline; our only analysis of predictability is our gut-feeling intuition. I have learned that stalking my past flings will consequently make me nauseous for the remainder of the 24-hour day, but maybe that feeling is my body telling me to focus on my own journey as comparing mine to theirs will only have me sitting and staring at a blank page for god knows how long. This is my intuition telling me to stand the fuck up, girl!
Our lives kind of are like a video game too , unlocking life achievements as our paths twist and turn, directing us into darkness and light, generationally illuminated by screens. I believe we are all playing a different game though, a topic I explored in Pixels v. High Definition, an ode to seeing life through the lens of video game metaphors.
Some nights, my thoughts feel as though they are being written by candlelight. A simplicity so gentle and furthering, enlightenment passionately burns my dreams to new heights and coloring the paper before me in a vibrant, self-sufficient cascade of color. I would love to call these epiphanies, but they only itch my brain right before I fall asleep, which might be why my dreams bring me so much peace. Sleep is wonderfully recharging, yes, but dreams are quite the opposite in their applicable and known credible research; how interpretive that what so otherworldly is intertwined with our survival.
I know how I want my story to end, and I credit that to my preferred language that the classics just always seem to take note of; to love and be loved. Though written a million times over, it’s transcendence and relatability will never tire or rust-over; love is igniting in all of its warmth, security, protection, endurance, safety and glow. Love, like fire, is so easily caught and always worth the consequential burn. Here I will strap myself to the stake and burn alongside my story as my flesh and feeling become ashes.
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