How to Enjoy Getting High Again
Last night I went to a poetry reading in Linz, the first of its kind for me. Since I arrived here terminal July, I spent most of the summertime in a love daze with David, being newly together; I spent the stop of the year traveling throughout the Salzkammergut for my internship; and finally, spent the last 5 months frantically worrying while lounging around the house, in a mad race to send out application after application, in the hopes of finding a decent job prospect (and therefore visa prospect) in Austria. In all that time, I never had the chance to make myself at home in Linz or to properly settle downward in this new urban center that I volition eventually surely come to call my ain.
I was able to get to High german grade every now and once more; and made information technology to yoga two times in the year (mainly due to my negative cash menstruum – oh the joys of beingness young and unemployed!). Simply this was my first poesy reading. An intimate glimpse into a community of creative internationals unknown to me, just of which I was already a office. Meeting my people, I had truly come home.
In this memorable moment I had three beloved colleagues from my last workplace there to support me; and new friend from my newest 'Arbeit'. Beyond that, so many other souls opened themselves up to me in what felt like a metaphorical comprehend, brought on by my ain willingness to stretch my condolement zone and read verse to the group, sharing my creativity and vulnerability in one, tied up in the perfect package. So rarely exercise we glimpse this utterly irreplaceable, invaluable feeling, this energy of pure love and sharing, the brilliant poetic rhythem of experience, of thoughts come up alive. Feelings put into written words put into inspired, fragile, gentle voices, whose owners are strong enough to break the silence of the space between the words.
Sorry, I'm getting off on a romantic tangent. I'm feeling playful with my sense of expression these days.
Merely the truth is just that, that I'chiliad falling in love again, falling in beloved with life and music and the poetry falling off my lips; falling off yours; I'yard falling in dear with smiles on my friends' faces and the love that radiates outward from the hearts of the people I've met; and with my vocalism; with my ability to sing, my ability to dance and read and write and love and forgive.
I am falling in honey with life once again.
Concluding night I realized towards the finish of the evening that I was drunk; not on spirits but on spirit; on friendship and on good company and the ever-and so-perfect-lighting. Drunk on the fact that we had come together to share words concocted by our hearts, on the fact that they had survived our self-conscious smothering to bear upon the low-cal of day.
With a conscious effort I stabilized myself to attempt to bring my feet dorsum to the ground, but they didn't return, they only carried me home from open space and floating, I made it abode safe.
Y'all run across, there is this JOY that comes from going inside, from connecting to the source of all that you are and letting that glorious mess hail outwards; letting your truest nature dominion all that you practice, living in such actuality and compassion that nothing can go far your way. When you sing your vocal, when y'all write your poem, when you make your art, when yous exercise YOUR affair and share it with the world for the benefit of the world, you have come alive. You have discovered the most coveted and cardinal secret of life.
I believe we all take a moral obligation to nourish our soul; to give energy and attending to those parts of united states which can't be suppressed, no matter how hard we may try.
Equally a child I wrote poems. I would lock myself in my room, sit in the nesting identify that was the bottom of my cupboard and fill notebook after notebook with endless poesy. I did this not out of any certain appetite to get a poet or artist; serenity the contrary- I didn't recognize the value of those titles dorsum so. But rather I experienced such an intense flow of emotions on a regular ground that I was compelled, out of an urgent necessity, to miscarry my deepest thoughts and feelings onto an empty page each day then that I might save myself of the burning ache for catharsis. I felt securely and writing was my therapy.
And for years I didn't nurture this passion. Today, finally, I am. With verse readings and this blog, to name a few.
The Bottom line: Practise what yous take to do. Melt, paint, write poetry, fly airplanes, blueprint wearing apparel or video games or take care of people. Only go to the bottom of your middle and find out what it is telling y'all to practice.
From self-expression to cocky-actualization, I wish you the greatest luck and honey on your journey.
Source: https://humanresourcewellness.wordpress.com/2017/06/09/getting-high-on-life-again/
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