MeliGoesRogue

I only ever intended to write of my travels and the doors they opened up within me. Yet I find now that they are pyramids in fact with trap doors and staircases hidden beneath its facade. I can feel when the words have begun to push thru the rock, squirming as they find their way to the light. I have been fighting this sadness for weeks now, dodging its piercing arrows at every turn. I remedied it much like an addiction with just a bit of the drug at a time. I allowed myself tiny sorrow filled moments..the movie would play and the dimmed lights would trick my mind into believing there was calm behind my tears, these tears had not forced their way out as so many had. In fact I had called to them- I enticed them with dinner with just a few friends; Greg, Dennis and Billie. It had been so long since the four of us had been together so long since I had built my cities only to blow it to bits. I was sure I could break the band up again. Alas just as an addiction my tolerance had grown and I now found myself searching for the next searing moment.

Not long ago I began to wonder if I had turned over my search or whether I had given up hope of ever finding my treasure. I’m still not sure, could it be that I want it too much. There is so much that has changed and yet in the darkest of places the prisoner remains.

One of my favorite movies takes place in Egypt- I began to think of the pyramids that I have built inside myself, where I have left pieces of me that were left for dead. Hoping that the rays of the sun would give them a new form and a new life. Even now as I brush the sand away from the rock they beg me to allow them sleep. I fear the pyramids and all the things I have laid to rest within its chambers.
There is a moment in the film when the two stand face to face and look to each other for what seems an eternity I could hear so much in those moments, I could feel the sorrow. There is so much more to life than what I have learned, I don’t mean a spiritual plane although I do believe in it. I mean more of the way we live our lives, we so seldom honor ourselves. As I mentioned before I started this blog and only ever expected to write in it once a year when what surrounded me was more…more than I knew. What occurs to me now isn’t that I should be writing more it is that I should be surrounded more. I don’t know how that fits in with the western world teachings of obligation and responsibility. perhaps it isn’t those teachings but rather my interpretation of them that must be shifted on its axis. The music has ended and the clock in Cairo says 8:29am,  my rambling mind reminds me that longing to be does not make it so and outside my window the sky is dark and the time has not yet come.

Shukran