Nurture The Wound

I know peace as that feeling I get when I lay in a field of grass with a slight breeze running through my curls and the blades of green. I’m not too fond of insects, but I don’t mind coexisting with them. They have a way of reminding me that their purpose is to just be. 

Whatever that may mean to them. Whatever that may mean to me, at least.

 I’d look up at the sky as it’s freshly entered civil twilight, and I would ponder two things. The first is how nice it feels to be alone, and yet I feel far from lonely. The trees sway as our earth breathes solemnly. The grass grows under my feet, even though it feels stagnant. And two dragonflies dance around the field as if they are all that they know in the world. How could I ever feel lonely on a planet that is so alive?

The second thing that would cross my mind is the global shape I recognize when I stare at the sky. When I was younger, I would joke and say that we lived in a snow globe. Although, I don’t think I was that far off. When I stare into the twilight and I watch the clouds glide by, I can’t help but think how completely small, and utterly tiny I must be. And how much more petite my problems really are. For a split second, it’s as if I’m not able even fathom that I was gifted life- a soul with a heart that pumps fresh blood and a brain that is meant to absorb the knowledge I learn in this lifetime, and yet with that same brain, I am fixated on a fictional purgatory. A mental simulation. With that same heart, it aches for clarity, and it longs for freedom. And with my soul, it observes behind glass orbs and can do nothing but whisper intuitive hints that may help me in the future.

I lay in a field of grass to escape my issues, only to be reminded that if I don’t look within, they will always follow. Because it’s not about running away from them. It’s about learning to accept them, understand them, and to set them free. They want to be solved as much as I want them to disappear. So while pondering with my toes buried in the soil and the spiders trickling up my ankles, what I’ve grown to realize is the one holding them captive, is myself.