My racing heart bashing against my chest briefly distracted me from the perpetual screams. “Is sixteen too young to die from a heart attack?” I thought. The pounding was so loud the person next to me must have heard it. Fear held me captive - paralyzed by the unknown, standing motionless. What lurked around the next corner? What must be confronted despite my resistance? Safety wasn’t in jeopardy, this I knew. Yet the uncertainty of the next moment kept me frightened. Eyes stayed shut, despite the black that already surrounded me. Victim to the darkness I pushed through. Another scream. Jumping back I knocked over the person behind me and tumbled to the floor. “Why the F*#@ do I keep doing this to myself?” I asked out loud. Opening my eyes for the first time the goblin's face was in front of my own. A playful laugh came from behind the mask. He answered in a muffled voice, “Because you looooove being scared.”
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The afternoon was bright in mid-July. Warm sunshine dripped through the holes between the clouds. It was like the sky was a cracked blue and white bowl trickling with golden honey. As I walked with my yoga bag toward the pavilion at Camp Champion, I looked up and caught myself noticing the vastness above me. “Spectacular,” I thought, “I’m so glad I looked up.” I wondered about all the miracles I miss every day.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
“Let’s go! We’re going to be late!” These are the familiar words my children have grown to ignore. “Hurry up!” has become standard even when the clock says there’s time. After years of transitioning from homework to soccer practice, ballet auditions and weekday birthday parties, we live a perpetual rush to make it ‘on-time’. Mindlessly moving from one super hurried day to the next. Ending each day with the same overpowering heap of exhaustion. And tomorrow we do it again.