On love

What is there? A fog, a haze, a windswept field in the waning hours of the day, the deadly fourth act to the illumination of the earth. Who can say what there is? Who can really define the rights and wrong of life? To justify anything is to justify ignorance, to justify the unknown. These days I work, kayak, play, party, and survive. The days seem to be ticking down, ticking toward the final act. Ticking toward the day when I feel the lift of air underneath me and watch the land I love disappear behind foreboding clouds, angry seas, and ominous mountains. I feel the sweat on palms, the shaky composure of a hostage victim as I work. Never has the prospect of being fired had so many horrible implications. With a mistake, or series of mistakes, the final blow can be cast as visas end and worlds change. Breathe I say to myself as I double check tickets, watch foam fill beers, and struggle to understand the drunken Spanish of the locals. Always in the background of my head is the fear of removal. The fear that one day the completeness I feel will be torn from my weary hands. For years I fought for this. I toiled under the hellish Idahoan sun, sacrificing relationships and friends for what I have now.

What do I have?

 Everything. The problems that plagued my Youth seem to have been slowly evaporating as the near celebrity status I have been anointed with intoxicates my brain. Among the torrents of white, turquoise, dark blue, and green I feel a sense of confidence that allows for personal perfection. Self-reflection while searing lungs scream for air, and moments seem like years. Trapped underneath by the airless pressure the clarity is real, along with the calm. The calm of a man who has finally accepted who he is, and what he will become.

 “I have met you four times she said” I did not recognize her. Without her glasses the memories were foggy, once they were placed beautifully on her nose, they flooded back. I stared at her with a new studied glance, the fohawked Chilean next to me giving the reassuring wink for engagement. Her voice was beautifully accented among the thundering chatter of ever intoxicated regulars. How I have grown to distaste this bar. The new and exciting just around a few turns of the road, blocks on the streets. To go to these places, not with the primal human urge, but with a beloved companion would be a welcomed relief, in many ways I think. I could fall in love with anyone it seems. The random girl on the beach, as her hair sways in the gentle breeze, shifting into her dark brown eyes, her glance cast my way. What are her thoughts? Does she feel the future as I do? Does she forget the past as I wish to do? These questions are no longer important. I once thought I wanted understanding. I once thought that maybe there would be a girl for which it seemed our needs for each other could be expressed in a way which only we could understand. I now believe it is all the same. If a smile is cast upon their familiar face, then love can be found. If no smile appears among the waves, then the love will turn bitter, cold, and lost among lies.

 Am I jaded?

Of course. The present is constantly being affected by the past, always changing the future. What do I want? What do we all want? Someone for which to share the happiness. This all you could ever want. This place while beautiful, amazing, constantly breathtaking, full of parties, full of people who see life as one for which to live to the fullest, will only be realized once it can be seen for what it is in different but loving eyes. Eyes which contrast your own, but find a compromise unspoken but understood. The qualities I always wanted from a girl, desired in a woman, are no longer important. The barrier cast by a limited foreign vocabulary allows for only the eyes to have any importance. A brief moment within the depths of dark chocolate eyes reveals more than a year of dating ever could. A year of conversations dipping into the existential, can be wiped away by a movement of the eyes. An unsaid but telling admission of guilt. What do my eyes say? I hope no one ever tries to interpret, but instead realizes the wanderings of my thoughts among the dark places of my head and leaves them to find their destination. I don’t want understanding as I once thought I did. I used to think that I would be a hard person to love. This is no longer true for me. The words of a band I used to spend hours lost among the harmonic vibrations come to me now, “If I wanted someone to understand me I would have more to say.” I believe this to be true, for me anyways. To debate truth is to walk around in a circle expecting to find an end. In reality you just need to stop where you are and believe it to be the end. In the past I have seen belief as illogical, which it is, but to continue to live, to continue to allow yourself to do more than lie down in the sand and wait for the end belief is necessary. I believe in love, and because of that I can will it with anyone I choose. So long as they make life move easily like the un-hurried wanderings of the dreamer, the idealistic philosopher.