There is something magical about new fallen snow in the fall. It smells different, it looks different and most of all it feels different than any other snow.. I don't see winter in the negative light most do. It's not a death but a time of rest. So tonight when I walked outside to get wood and saw that light dusting of snow all the worries dissipated into the air that fairly crackled with energy. The worry over him, over horses and money. Over school and jobs. Over my health and my struggling faith; was all simply gone. It was just me and the snow. I stood with my arms stretched out beside me as I slowly twirled in circles gazing at the brilliant light of the winter moonlight. As the stars twinkled, without warning my eyes began to twinkle in reflection. I soaked in the healing power of those few snowflakes as I laughed at the simple eloquence of the sign around me. The stars are still twinkling, the moon (though smaller now) is still shining. There is so much more going on than me making the deans list, my next tank of gas, or becoming an athlete again. I have a life to live beyond all of those things. Exceedingly. Abundantly. Above all that I could ask or think.
I have gotten so bogged down in the emphasis I have placed on my everyday life, that I couldn't see the big picture. What is that big picture? I haven't the faintest idea. For now the signs point toward a time of preparation, a time of healing, a time of relaxation. A time for me to be honest with myself. Now as I sit out on my balcony shivering in the crisp fall-almost-winter air my path seems so clear.
It's a time to live, a time to grow, and a time to live without regrets.
As I gaze wistfully out at the stars, and watch them fall, I realize, I have forgotten to wish. One to many wishes on falling stars didn't come true. Somewhere along the way, I just stopped wishing. As the shock of that revelation wears off I see how my mindset has changed. And I'm determined to change my mindset again. I may not have the faith to wish on them anymore, but I can reach out and draw them close to my heart. Instead of the symbol of vanquished dreams they have become, falling stars are now a symbol of everlasting hope. Hope that I cannot put a name to, but hope that I can see. And for once, if I run far enough; even on the cloudiest night, I'll catch that glimpse of hope.
I'm slowly coming to realize, hope isn't inherent and it isn't given. It is taken, it is recognized and you have to find it yourself. A few days ago as I struggled in the gym a man walked by, his shirt said "be inspired". And I was. I finished up my reps and pushed past my point of comfort. I found inspiration, I found hope. This afternoon I took off my earrings and tossed them onto my bed. They formed a perfect heart upon my "thought" book. For the first time in years my writing has had meaning and has had hope. That heart pushed me to write again tonight to try and create something as beautiful as that heart framed by wings. Maybe my words have no meaning to anyone but me. I would hope to inspire and instill hope in others. Whatever you decide is fine. It is up to you. But me? I'll just keep looking for falling stars and perfect snowflakes. They won't lead me astray.
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