Sunday, November 22, 2009

Intermissions and Daydreams

I'm back, I've returned home. At least it still feels like home each time I come back here. It's almost as if time stopped, as if some piece of my spirit is still floating around this playground of palm trees, warm sunshine and crystal teal oceans. I suppose a piece of it always will, knowing that there's always the possibility of its full return. My heart lights up and its smile can't be contained in my eyes each time I'm staring out that window at the outline of Florida's west coast from 20,000 odd feet in the air. I always hate when it's time to go. I cry when it's almost time to leave again and I look longingly and wistfully at the palms outside the airport's terminal as the plane lifts off the ground. I remind myself that I'll be back, this wasn't the last time. I'll come back and get to feel at peace. I'll come back and hopefully get to create more "in person" moments rather than just hear a voice on the other end of the phone line.

It's complicated to have a love affair between two homes, two States that are polar opposites. I'm free here. There's no one watching my every move. There's no one to judge, to say "why are you doing that" or "why aren't you doing this." In Colorado there are expectations, roles to play, obligations to live up to. Not to mention the weather, opportunities and scenery are a heck of a lot better here. You experience the illusion that Summer is indeed perpetual, that the powerful, yet calm sound of the ocean's tide is right outside your window just as you dreamed it would be when you were younger, that life really is about magic, fun and inner peace. It's a place I find calming, inspirational and carefree. It's a place that has become my favorite escape. It's a place I often think of making my only home again, if my ambitions and life obligations didn't have other plans.

The nature of my love for this place has changed. I realize that I'm more fond, rather than fascinated by it. I realize that it's still where I want to be, that my heart is home. It's a place I didn't expect to fall in love with, but love in and of itself is random. Seemingly random, anyway. I sometimes like to think that it's not, that there's purpose there.

Relationships. They're messy, they don't know what rules are, they're anything but linear, they're often complicated. The heart has the capacity to love more than the mind is willing to rationalize and accept. Once you love someone, you love them. You never stop, not really. Your mind might put them in a neat little box, packed away, hidden in that corner of a closet you rarely open. A box that can be rediscovered on a moment's whim. A box that has the capacity to fit in more than what it looks like it should be able to.

As we can have love affairs between two geographical locations, we can also have them between two people. The heart has the capapcity to love an indefinte amount of individuals. The heart has the capacity to love in a variety of forms, but in the end it can't discern between them. You can commit yourself to someone you have surface affection for and yet feel a deeper connection towards someone else. That notion of spiritual love is of interest and one that I seem to be revisiting in earnest lately.

Spiritual love can contain romantic undertones, but it is often a deeper bond than that of romantic love. It is an unspoken connection between two souls that is never quite broken. It's almost as if you can listen to their thoughts if you make yourself still enough. Telepathic conversations and experiences that you can have when you're both ready, even if physically distant. Not only can you imagine their presence, but you can feel it. You can draw each other to the same location unintentionally, experience the same experience if you're not shielding yourself from their energy wavelength.

There's a certain knowledge that you two have of each other, of situations in your individual lives, of why you've made the choices you did, a certain level of understanding that you don't need words for. You just know. You know the hidden corners of their soul, who they really are, who they spend so much time and energy masking as something else. It's as if there is a cosmic magnet that draws the two of you together someway, somehow, no matter what the obstacles are. It's an unspoken understanding that you belong with each other, whether that's in this lifetime or the next.

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