Mountain Dweller


Here to bring light to the issues that people sweep under rugs to bring healing to those who can't find their own words for their experiences and to promote change through individuality. 

Paper vs. Keyboard

Indulge your mentality and imagine with me....

Standing along the embankment, feet cushioned by soft padded earth that is swollen with nutrients, staring through the surface of the water to the rocks that lie below; my reflection is present but my thoughts are floating in the clouds above. As I take the time to grow into the comfort of my own presence, I slowly become flooded by the innate fact that the very skin that holds my bones together, does not feel like my own. The focus shifts from the depths, settling on the face staring back at me; my sigh is met with the guilt of never taking the time to befriend myself first. 

My mind wanders more than I would prefer it to. I have often been told that I "think too much" and while the truth of those words holds strength, my desire to figure out how to be happy while still overthinking is the forefront of objective. Most days, I am consumed by what should otherwise keep me up through the dark hours of the day, contemplating, analyzing, justifying...

Every blade of grass is a sweet lick in reminder as to what it means to thrive: water, sunlight, encouragement. Without these things, even I would feel incomplete in creation. 

Even in the midst of writing this, I am lost. 

In the art of constantly finding oneself, one has to wonder if there will ever come a point of total acceptance, where the soul has made peace with its reality, where it does not hurt to face your own reflection. Do we every truly find ourselves? 

The kind of lost that you need to be in order to discover yourself is not the same lost as having lost yourself. It is cold, discomforting. It makes you crawl back into the holes you secretly dug when you were caught in pure bliss. 

Maybe I have chosen too soon, to find solace in minimal places and faces. The more that I have witnessed human interaction take place, the more I find myself drawing more detached from feeling incredibly grateful for having met a new soul. Overtime, I have come to recognize, that people find ease in talking about themselves; it is the easiest, first interactive way to connect: through shared experiences. Upon this realization a number of years back, I admittedly began to adjust my listening language and skill set by making stronger eye contact, asking questions that prompt thoughtful response, and genuinely trying to express my care and concern. What it returned to me instead, were people knowing only how to speak about themselves and them leaving upon feeling like they had been heard. There became an unhealthy imbalance of caring too deeply for each and every interaction I had with someone, believing fruitfully in the human experience, leaving me with the realization that I had given so many parts away from myself that I was left with the loneliness of not knowing who I was anymore. 

In the process of reevaluation and redefinition, I am forced to confront the interactions in my life that have both influenced yet robbed me; I will admit that with this, comes the taste of regret, like salt that is added to an untasted, pre-seasoned dish. There has been acceptance in knowing that I will never get those parts back of me, there has been excitement in knowing that I will never have those parts again, but mainly, mainly there is silent, steady confusion. 

Be kinder to yourself. Gentle breezes, free flowing water, soft moss under your skin, they are all reminders. 

I have wondered if maybe my mind has begun to taper off of its creative thought due to not holding a pen in my hand more often. The clicking of the keys on a keyboard are an addicting satisfaction partnered by the incredible ability to capture more words than any pen could ever keep up with. Maybe I am drowning. My mind falls into the depths of the open roads while I try hard to remind myself to not bring this particular dream to fruition (at least not prematurely).

I am far too addicted to new experiences in old territories. I am too easily fascinated by the chirping sounds of the animals that taunt me with their freedom and how wonderful it is to walk barefoot onto cold sand after a night wrapped in warmth.

I love it all too deeply. 

McKenzie RoersComment