twenty.

WELL FRIENDS. Here we are. There is tea whistling in my kitchen and a favorite mug ready for the occasion. Bon Iver is singing to me, "On your back with your racks as the stacks are your load." The sky is thinking about raining, I'm thinking about what I'm going to make for dinner and where I should get my hair cut on friday.

I feel like this birthday in particular demands a little pause and reflection, maybe a comment or two. [but what to pause upon?] There's apparently some sort of right of passage I am embarking on, a threshold that poets have told us about, or "they" have written about in stone. I don't feel it, to be honest. It could be that today is wednesday and for now it's just like another wednesday, with work and not with sleep and eight piles of books on my floor in my room.

Or that I am just tired. These last two months I have felt old. And I have been thinking a lot in the last few days about youth. And how we fight like hell to grow up, and we fight like hell to stay young and bright and to not sag and wrinkle [my forehead is getting traces of lines since January; yes I can trace it back that accurately]. There is this art and science in gaining wisdom and yet keeping a grasp on our childlike wonder, wide eyed and speechless with red tongues from candy. I've been thinking about that today- the simplicity, and using my maturity [bah!] to continue to find the beauty in not knowing [I don't know what I'm going to do therefore it is all still WIDE OPEN for me] and the poetry in working 14 days in a row and still having to eat Mr. Noodle for the last two days before a pay cheque. The paper thin barrier between trying it all and also finding that it's okay to say NO.

And Love- I am young in Love and old in it. If I reach back down the timeline and think back before the hurt and disappointment and sandpaper and skinned knees of Experience, I remember a girl that is somewhere in me that ran full-throttle with no parachute or breaks and could bare all because she chose to burn the cautionary tales, her anthem being, "YES. I will risk for you." I'm pulling out the chord sheet and learning the notes so I can play that someday. I have seen corners and outskirts of it, and I know there is a lot more to see.

That is all I have for today. There has been laughter and I pray for more of it, there have been timid dreams that are taking shape and gaining momentum, there is a country on my heart that is calling my name and saving for a plane ticket. There are songs that need to be written, a guitar that needs to be played, days that need to be taken for their deepest riches and greatest adventures. There is a story that needs to be written and we have been writing all along.

[And may I take this little stage to say thank you to the city that it takes to raise a girl with a song. Thank you all for your Love and comfort and couches to dream on and parades of encouragement.] May I venture on with more and more Joy and Love and less Worry and more Surrender.

Posted on March 10, 2010 and filed under from jess-.