Recently I rediscovered a part of me that I thought was lost—expression. I have the ability to describe the world as I see it, to unscramble the view, and solve the puzzle. Years of being unarmed against an opponent that was invisible, known only by the scars it left behind—is over. I can stand without fear. I can run in the sand. The confidence of expression, without fear of failure is a gift that won’t collect dust again. My salvation lies at my fingertips and escapes from my core. How did I ignore the voice that was screaming for freedom? My only answer is “fear”. Fear that it wasn’t who I was. Afraid that it was too arrogant to believe I had the ability to define who I am, what I can be. A diminished self-esteem was the result of a prolonged ignorance branded by an uncontrolled illness. Worthlessness was the lie it professed. Feeling irrelevant disguised my passion. One drop of clarity in a cloudy mind lets life shine through. The realization that I’ve only taken a few baby steps out of the desert isn’t discouraging. Knowing I’ll be able to run soon invigorates me.
Words that use to hide behind the lightning in my mind have found their way through the electric bars. I can feel them tumbling out of me. It’s a vocabulary sticky and wet, which begs to be molded. Piece by piece I’ll uncover the sculpture that is hidden beneath the marble. I’ll smooth the edges and release the elegance of my craft. There is a power in understanding yourself that I didn’t know existed. The power creates the confidence to stare in the mirror and not doubt the image staring back.
Waiting for the next nightmare to explode through my mind is over. Fighting to breathe, straining to remember, and dragging myself from the darkness, are all over. I don’t have to learn to be me anymore. I know that my limits are only what I limit myself to. I’ve walked in the dark for so long I don’t need a light; I have the maze memorized. I have the advantage of knowing where I am going even during the darkest part of my day.
I discovered that being the tortoise isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. If I had been the hare, I wouldn’t have had the time to soak in my surrounding. I’ve learned to reflect on the things I’ve seen and felt. I am slowly being able to narrate my life. I know to break the puzzle into its smallest parts, study each piece, and take my time to reassemble it. The images of a life have intricate pieces that deserve to be examined with acute detail. Missing a single moment is an insult to what it means to “live”.
My “Carpe Diem” is my ability to write. Every day I work on honing my skills. Capturing the smallest moments in time and reliving them through a creative lens helps me “seize the day”. About six months ago I heard another Latin saying that I’ve been trying to live by:“Temet nosce” or “know thyself". It is a perfect match to “Carpe Diem”. Knowing yourself well is the first step necessary to “Carpe Diem”. I believe without the knowledge of your true self, there can’t be a moment that you willingly take. You’ll be left with what you are given. I don’t want the scraps from someone else’s day; I want to feast on the meat of my own.
Possibilities pave my future. The gravel, sand, and mud are far behind me. My feet are still wet but they ache to run. So I push the ground away from me and lean into the wind. Nothing will stop the determination that surrounds me. I’ve been jaded with a purpose. I have been infected by a hunger that cannot be satisfied.
I went to a music store. Its walls were lined with guitars. I walked past them noticing my reflection change every time a different guitar made its appearance. Which guitar do I play? Do I grab the one with the crisp reflections, sparkling frets and tuned perfectly? Do I grab a guitar with dents and scratches?—Imperfections are what made me. If I were pristine I wouldn’t be able to define myself. Every scar, every mistake, all my imperfections bear the story of my life. Where would I be if my life was being displayed like those guitars? I would be in the back of the room, scratched, dented, and waiting to be tuned.
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