Life is a long walk

 I've been walking at least 10,000 steps everyday for the past few months now. 

The reward not only is found in my improving physical health, but nature has left me visual gifts for my to find on my little adventures outside. Which, I have also realized that I feel more at home when I separate myself from civilization. Alone on a trail, I regain a sense of tranquility, confidence and an assurance that I am alive. 

New Years resolution, some might wonder, however I believe in daily resolutions. Everyday you wake up a different person, just slightly. Embrace the dying and rebirth of your cells and regenerate yourself again and again. I have been meditating more as well. My brain doesn't like to sit still, so it has been a challenge to rest with my thoughts. I need at least three forms of stimulation at a time. 

I view my life as a gear in a machine. Turning, turning, turning. 

Everything around me repeats. Sounds, I notice the most. Rhythmic thumping of the undercurrent beats of a song, whatever reverberates in my chest the loudest. Highs and lows crashing against the synapses in my brain, stringing together to make a complex necklace around my brainstem. Iron and copper soak into the muscles, my lungs contract. Too tight. 

I've noticed the stale air that is accumulating in my room, otherwise known as the only territory I have, now that I am out of my previous apartment. Something borrowed. 

...

Do you ever question your usefulness? In times of quiet, stillness, do your hands too generate a restless energy? The body is urged to leap from one chapter of life to the next in a rapid succession. I've begun to read the footnotes of my own story, it's all what I feared. 

I fear that I am degrading. Twenty three years of rebirth, love, loss, more rebirthing of my identity. I look at my hands and I try to reach for a greater star in my galaxy that might be hiding a planet of pure creative genius. Each star explodes into cosmic oil, leading to nothing. I am launched back into a body that holds a pleasure-seeking creature, despite my wishes, I crave stimulation. 

Every action is movement. You cannot be lazy, laziness is a social boogieman. It is impossible to sit around and do nothing, for you are always choosing to do something. Every action is a choice towards the future - the future is the present moment.

 I simply chose to overload my senses to forget... everything and everyone. 

Where I lie now is the result of over two decades of stationary movement. Overload that bounces off the walls and fades into oblivion. 

...I think I'm getting stupider. My words aren't as impactful, and my writing has become childish. Simplistic. My taste has outgrown my body, in a sense. Is my brain even useful to my body? Who is my brain, and who is taking control, really, if not me. 

I have so much I wish to live through before my next life. 

There is another being growing inside of my consciousness that's waiting to be born after I close this heavy chapter book. 

Each step pulls me towards myself, each action, I touch the years ahead of me - a touch that is gentle. To treat the body with love is to feed the yous of tomorrow, and the days after that. 

Even grown, we are still so small compared to the Earth, thus we will forever be its children. 

Stumbling, crying, fighting, loving, laughing children.