Bliss and Dharma

A bright new day with an empty bank account and little pieces of paper tucked into envelopes, sent across the nation. Pinned on them are my life long dreams, hopes and desires of expanding myself to new levels, creating something, making the passion happen. But then again, it’s days like today that leave me feeling simply satisfied with a messy house, messy hair and little worries. It’s all out of my control now. Lo que sea que sea y no puedo poner más energia en mis sueños, en suerte. All there is left to do is notice the smaller things. Get out in that garden, start harvesting those herbs and goods and wholesome bundles. 

Last night was a topsy turvy mind fuck. Ending the night with him by my side is still as comforting as that childhood blanket that ended up tattered and torn. I hope not all things end in such a unfortunate state. But lately it’s as if a force has been ripping apart the seams that held us so close together; each day another pluck at the stitch, another tear in the fabric. Perhaps time tears at everything a little. As our skin starts to sag and our mouths begin to drool, the embellished visions of fate and ever-after begin to appear dim as a candle in a rainstorm. It’s a solemn thought but reality is better than succumbing to the lie. This is where you begin to find happiness. 

While you lay sleeping

Wrapped in a bubble, tucked away in a nook and pushed aside are those wild aspirations I had carried around in my pocket with me for quite some time. They’re withered and wilted but still hold their form; spirit, freedom and ultimately uninhibited is always just beyond the horizon. So close, yet so far away. I dream of the day that I sleep on a beach, drinking vino tinto and letting some hot summer night drive me mad. The man, the beast, the never-ending cycle of bullshit has me driven and I’ve succumbed to this so-called “American dream.” 

Fuck that.

Time to revolt. Time to rejoice in the success of my endeavors, set up house for the next 6 months with my gypsy love, letting our hair and fantasies run free. Work hard, play some, then adventure on our own paths as the summer approaches. Tucson together. Beyond that, who knows. Love is uncertain but my need for trees, train tracks and the buzzing unknown will always haunt me until I discover it. I graduate in a mere 2 weeks.

And then the true adventure begins. 

Autumn skies make for a cuddling like kittens sorta day. Scarves and ponchos. Boots and mittens. Chattering teeth and nostalgic smiles. 

On my one day off in…weeks…I’ve slept in to the ungodly hour of 8:45 and curled up the comforter around the tips of my toes to watch a foreign film while eating oatmeal in bed. Lethargy has never felt so god damn good. Perhaps this is why I work so hard…to relish in how good it feels to do absolutely nothing. 

Il dolce far niente. 

And while my body remains here in the dusty old pueblo, my heart remains somewhere far off today. Sitting at a cafe, dipping the crumbs of my croissant into my cafe con leche, reading Borges while nibbling on some homemade bizcocho at the tea house in Alcalá or simply enjoying some hot mint tea in a coffee house in Amsterdam. The intellects and the bastardly stoned surrounding me. A little trip to Dam Square. People watching and bicycle riding. The travel bug has been eating away at my flesh, giving me that tick for adventure, making me solemn in the hum drum of reality and routine. It’s so close but so far away.

And at the end of the day, regardless of time or place or cold or warmth or business or laziness or memoirs and nostalgia compared to here-and-now…I just really want to hold his dirty hand. Although, perhaps a plane ticket to nowhere would tickle my fancy as well.