Dynamic. Dual (or three or four) beings/entities simultaneously shimmering, elongating, spinning and waving off key, in sync, and en tempo. Change, or let’s say growth encapsulating the entire motion, a movement that I readily define Diana, as this friendship.
You’ve scratched “busy” from your vernacular so let’s ay your life, your head, your emotions are brimming are full. It’s as though you consistently opening up your soul under Victoria Falls and when we’re conversing and communicating your overflow dances into me. It has the same effect as water splashed on the forehead after weeding all day: refreshing. Waking up without an alarm after five consecutive 6am days: rejuvenating. Reading a biography about women’s suffragettes: reaffirming. The relationship is resurrection to my tired and passionate soul.
We are young and every year from henceforth we will accumulate more wrinkles and wisdom, failures and feats, sadness and satisfaction. We will age not because we are drifting away from our idealism and zest but because it will become something we have gone forth and lived. The word (and conversation and chatter and aspirations) became flesh.
And we will sojourn on, sojourn with a spring in our step and sojourn with a limp in our gait but sojourn we will because we are still infatuated and giddy and nervous about the journey.
It is not so much after all that we were trying to read the map of life, of course we were not, but only how to blaze our own one. Danger was never meant to be avoided but rather encountered as a power to be handled and conversations, or should we say pep talks to steady the machete about to bring down another tree of injustice.
Invite me to the campfire you have off of that felled redwood so I can inspire myself with its ashes.