I am a tough person to walk with. I am constantly toggling my morals. I make convenient my principles. I hypocritically set boundaries. I safely hike into the wild, skirting the ledge of reckless, feeling the vertigo just enough to remember I am still a scared little boy deep in my soul, but with every tragedy, adventure, and fiasco I grow more and more into a man with a child's curiosity and less childishly curious.
I am an even tougher person to run with. I am not a champion marathoner, but I love the doubt in my mind that wakens when my stiff ankles ache, knees pang, and lungs hesitate. Early on in life, I recklessly tore into the trails of ambition. As life piled on stress I learn to run with a driven strategy, but the same running shoes muddied with a victim's blood.
Now I have to ask permission of my body, starting with my intention, making my way down into my chest, wondering how many breathes I still have left. They are ready as ever. On to my hips where the passion lives. Once the blood flows in these joints, its on! That doubt that wakens, it is the little person in me that wants to play near the kitchen close to grandma. It is the part of me that says "here is enough". It is the part of me that whines "do we have to".
It is the beaten part of me. The rejected part of me. The saddened part of me. The lonely part of me. It is the part of me, I now, put right up top, propped on my shoulders, discouraged and all. I let that part of me sing songs of pity. I find my will to run in the songs of pity. I don't run to race. I don't even think there's a chase. I don't measure very often. It uplifts me, and keeps me looking forward.
Despite my laziness, addictions, abnormalities, and other qualities that set me me unfortunately apart, I am internally magnificent. I am a flawed creature with an adequate capability to progress, making service an expression of joy.
Maybe its art!
