becoming us.

I think it takes a lot, to get us to where we are now.

Because nothing is ever simple, nothing is ever clear -but here we are.

Somehow we ended up with our feet planted in the place we now find ourselves, and somehow we managed to end up at this place, perceivably better than we were when we started this journey if not different. And with a deep breath in, short breaths out, a sigh of relief, and a blink of the eye we catch a glimpse, a whirlwind of time as it passes by us, not waiting for a second let alone for you and me.

Time runs past us, seizing our memories and captivating our thoughts, eluding our consciousness. And now all of these memories, every laugh, tear, every mistake, every success, all of it has become a part of the incredible road that leads to who we are. This road that is long and winding and confusing and the end is hidden and we often feel lost. As if instead of a path before us we see a forest, and it feels like there is a tree rooted in the way of every step we take. But we are planted there anyways so we might as well try to look up to the sky and enjoy the clouds while we’re here. And listen to the birds, because they chirp in the morning and sooner or later we will get to a point where the noise of the city streets overpowers the birds, and we will have sat clicking our pen in our office cubicle, close to throwing our coffee mug at the wall as we try to remember the sound of the chirps. But all we remember is that we once could hear those chirps and now we can’t. We are left gazing at the skyline from our corner office, but instead of skyscrapers we see trees, the trees that we took for granted. The trees that we once found ourselves staring up at as we sat criss-crossed in a clearing. And we could close our eyes and hear the music, and we could dance to it. But all too soon we listened to the screech of the subway cars and misunderstood that for a need to slap on a suit and enter society, leaving behind the trees and the clearing, not knowing that a step outside the edge of the forest would be our biggest mistake. That a step towards a concrete jungle would close our quaint clearing in the forest forever, and would cease the song, inhibit the dance, and quiet the birds that chirp in the morning. Only to leave us with a haunting memory of what we once had, once heard.

All because we ran to the edge of the forest instead of standing where we were planted waiting for the light, the trees, the birds, and the sun to bring us to the edge all in its own time.

We rushed it.

We let too many things get in the way of being still in the moments before us. We let the enticement of the edge of the forest cause us wish away the walk there.

We rushed it.

Because maybe its not the end of the path, the edge of the forest, that leads us to who we are but rather the walk there. Maybe its the way that we dance with the edge of the forest that allows us to gain bits and pieces of insight as we learn who we are, as we become who we are, as we become us.

But with the flying of time we forget how important the walk is. Because it takes more than just a step to become us. We need a road. We need miles and miles, to allow our minds, our thoughts to expand, divide, multiply. We need turns and forks in the road to force ourselves to make defining choices that will slowly reveal who we are as we become us. We let the fear of taking our time wish away our walk and now we are left staring at concrete jungles wishing them back to forests and humming to ourselves, trying to remember the tune of the birds that chirp in the morning.



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