Although, I'd much rather grow out, like the long and leafy arm of the vine. I'd much rather sit and enjoy the company of myself, without needing someone else's approval. I'd much rather not feel this erratic beating of my heart, but it stays within me. It stays and thuds, immensely loud and deep. Thud. Thud. Thud.
I wish I could count on my heart to beat out the rhythm of my life. Yet its chaotic drumming detracts from the things that I should see. I should want to see the ocean. I'll listen to the calm crashing of the waves. I'll imagine the foamy mists taking shape and color, surrounding me in the warmth. I should want to see the redwoods. The heady scent of aged bark swirling in and out of my consciousness. I'll close my eyes and start to simply feel the sunlight trickling through the canopy.
Yet, I might see a number of things without being seen. This is the growing up that someone else talked about; when I thought the process had started, even though I was too young. This is that feeling of not knowing where the beginning and the end may lie. The seeping in of something new and slightly more than we bargained for. It has taken me and kept my feet off the ground, in suspension; riding the hurricane for as long as the wind lives.