I was once told “an idle mind is the devil’s playground,” I agree, it’s scary up there alone.
I believe in creating your dreams, and I believe in following them. I believe in manifesting your future, and I’m effective at making it a reality. I believe what you put out to the Universe, you get back.
But sometimes I dwell.
I dwell on what people think, or thought. I dwell on whether or not I made the right decisions. I worry that I’ve said too much, and given too little. I worry that I’ve given too much, and said too little.
Sometimes people rush me. I’m always impatient. I stop to enjoy the view, which by definition is beautiful. I pause to capture a moment when it’s ugly, because I want to remember that too.
I love my ocean front city. I escape to my quiet town in the mountains. I love my quiet mountain town, and how I breathe better when I’m there. I escape to my ocean front city, which makes me feel alive.
I believe it‘s about the journey not the destination. I see the big picture, I don‘t care about the details. I speak my mind and it gets me into trouble. Too often I say nothing at all, and that bothers people around me.
I want to capture every moment, so I take a lot of pictures. I take too many pictures. I look at old pictures, too often. Sometimes I laugh at them. Sometimes they make me cry. I wonder why I do that to myself.
Sometimes I dwell.
I live in the moment, though more often than not, that’s a contradiction. I think I’m a contradiction. When I explain something I don’t use my hands. I explain everything in detail, there’s no such thing as a short story, or getting to the point. I’m bothered when people don’t get to the point.
I know that when others hurt, I have to accept it’s their path, but sometimes I walk beside them anyway. Sometimes walking beside someone hurts. But I do it anyway.
When I describe something, I paint a picture, with colors and comparisons. I draw comparisons sometimes from a past view, even if it wasn‘t pretty. Sometimes I use one of my journeys to help clarify, sometimes my journeys were painful. Sometimes I took my journeys alone.
Sometimes I dwell.
I don’t think sunrise is pretty, I hate getting up early. I hate waking up late and feeling like I’ve squandered away my day, sunset is glorious and beautiful. I hate people in bad moods, it’s such a waste of time. Sometimes I get in a bad mood and I can’t get out of it, or better, I just don’t want to.
I’m happy and I‘m free. I’m happier than I can ever remember being, being free is terrifying.
My mind is famous for rambling, my mouth is famous for word vomit. My mind knows how to still itself, my mouth knows how to stay shut.
People call me crazy because I’m a contradiction in terms. I think it’s that they just don’t understand. I care what they think. Am I back to square one? Why am I dwelling on this?
I was once told “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.”
I know what my mind looks like…
My mind is light yellow, the color yellow that you’d see at Pottery Barn Kids. It has lines of green, mostly Seafoam green. The lines look like static on a television. There’s more yellow than green.
When my mind closes it’s eyes it sees downtown San Diego at Golden Hour, from the ferry dock at Coronado, when it sleeps it sees the ocean.
It sees the ocean during June Gloom, or one of those days where the fog never blows back to it‘s place just offshore.
The ocean is never bright blue like the Bahamas, or crystal green like Fiji, it‘s the greyish blue periwinkle color, my favorite crayon in the Crayola box.
When my mind opens it’s eyes it sees Pine trees. The trees are too wide to put your arms around, and when it looks up it sees a bright light, blinding. The light is the sun, peeking through the treetops.
My mind is a generally happy place, too happy. My mind is overly optimistic, like a puppy who just heard someone pick up the dog leash. In it’s happiest moments it sees the Pier in Ocean Beach, and the dive bar that serves Mahi fish tacos and Hefeweizen with orange slices.
Sometimes my mind gets crushed, and in that moment it sees us snow wheeling, when the truck gets stuck, and the snow is deep and it looks impossible to get out of. And we’re cold. And when my mind takes a breath in, it‘s salty and slightly fishy, like the air around Pebble Beach. And when it breathes out, it’s mountain air, filled with the thick ash aroma of a wood burning stove and yet completely clear like Lake Tahoe.
When my mind laughs it sees the streets of Thailand, and people on little Vespa’s. my mind cries it sees myself from the ceiling of my old bedroom at the house on Cape May and I'm the same age I am now, and then it sees a shed I used to run to when I was a little girl. When my mind is idle it’s restless. When my mind is idle it’s calm. My mind is light yellow, with lines of seafoam green.