Posts tagged silver roland

The harder I try to keep still, the more I feel as though I’m losing control. My heart racing. I feel my body being pressed further into my seat, like that feeling right before take off. The world flying past, visible only as a constant horizontal motion. ‘Be still…’ I tell myself, ‘calm your thoughts.’ But inside me lives the contradiction. I betrayed myself once more. What happened? What should have never happened again. I went too far. I lost control. They would always tell me how much I let shit get to me, but I never got it really. I do wear my heart on my sleeve, but it’s only so people can clearly see the warning signs. If you don’t yield, is it the sign’s fault or should you have been paying closer attention? They call what I have a ‘temper’. I call it a re-action. The result of provocation. And what you may or may not be aware of, still affects the consequences of your actions. So ‘Don’t push me’, what I would always say. But while I know I think I’m slow to anger, I know I’m quick to rage. And what that was back there, was rage. To say rage is unproductive, is to say joy is adequate. Rage clouds your darkness, and blinds your light. It makes you forget the truth; that this, whatever this is, will not last. If only you could just take that one extra breath before you get to the place that rage lives; the one that draws in the clear air of better judgement, because the one thing you can’t do is take back rage once it’s been spent. But now it has already been spent, however reckless and needlessly. I’ve heard that life is a collection of moments, and clarity often comes in a flash. So when you least expect it, prepare for the lesson; the most impossible juxtaposition. And I’m soon to learn that my temper may cost me everything. With the moment of rage now a blur in the reflection, all  I have now are my fractured thoughts on what I’ve just done, and the inevitable uncertainty that lies ahead.

The harder I try to keep still, the more I feel as though I’m losing control. My heart racing. I feel my body being pressed further into my seat, like that feeling right before take off. The world flying past, visible only as a constant horizontal motion. ‘Be still…’ I tell myself, ‘calm your thoughts.’ But inside me lives the contradiction. I betrayed myself once more. What happened? What should have never happened again. I went too far.

I lost control.

They would always tell me how much I let shit get to me, but I never got it really. I do wear my heart on my sleeve, but it’s only so people can clearly see the warning signs. If you don’t yield, is it the sign’s fault or should you have been paying closer attention? They call what I have a ‘temper’. I call it a re-action. The result of provocation. And what you may or may not be aware of, still affects the consequences of your actions. So ‘Don’t push me’, what I would always say.

But while I know I think I’m slow to anger, I know I’m quick to rage. And what that was back there, was rage.

To say rage is unproductive, is to say joy is adequate. Rage clouds your darkness, and blinds your light. It makes you forget the truth; that this, whatever this is, will not last. If only you could just take that one extra breath before you get to the place that rage lives; the one that draws in the clear air of better judgement, because the one thing you can’t do is take back rage once it’s been spent.

But now it has already been spent, however reckless and needlessly.

I’ve heard that life is a collection of moments, and clarity often comes in a flash. So when you least expect it, prepare for the lesson; the most impossible juxtaposition. And I’m soon to learn that my temper may cost me everything. With the moment of rage now a blur in the reflection, all  I have now are my fractured thoughts on what I’ve just done, and the inevitable uncertainty that lies ahead.

It is a glimpse into a part of the world around us we miss when we blink; profound beauty in mid expression. I witnessed the Spirits of Dance. As I watched them tell their moving story, I was transfixed. They were completely at one with the Dancer that lives inside their flesh, and so they surrendered their trust to them religiously. I watched as they moved their bodies with precise abandon, and the narrative unfolded for all to see. For those who were watching closely, that is. All of the Spirits’ thoughts were flooded into motion, insisting that their human counterparts perform as if It was the only thing in the world that mattered right then. And they did magnificently! Harmonious as a melody, they all bounded, crawled, and soared; exhibiting their triumphs and tragedies, embracing both strength and struggle, and ultimately revealing their will. You see, the Spirits of Dance can only reflect the true essence of the human experience. Body language is incapable of deception, and the Spirits of Dance speak even to those who cannot move themselves. You can only witness the Spirits of Dance with an open mind, and an open heart. They will not reveal themselves to those who choose not to believe, for they have nothing to prove to anyone, just as existence need not prove itself. But to catch the Spirits of Dance as you see them here, you must pay attention; you can barely allow yourself a blink. Unless of course, you can see with your eyes closed.

It is a glimpse into a part of the world around us we miss when we blink; profound beauty in mid expression.

I witnessed the Spirits of Dance.

As I watched them tell their moving story, I was transfixed. They were completely at one with the Dancer that lives inside their flesh, and so they surrendered their trust to them religiously. I watched as they moved their bodies with precise abandon, and the narrative unfolded for all to see. For those who were watching closely, that is. All of the Spirits’ thoughts were flooded into motion, insisting that their human counterparts perform as if It was the only thing in the world that mattered right then. And they did magnificently!

Harmonious as a melody, they all bounded, crawled, and soared; exhibiting their triumphs and tragedies, embracing both strength and struggle, and ultimately revealing their will. You see, the Spirits of Dance can only reflect the true essence of the human experience. Body language is incapable of deception, and the Spirits of Dance speak even to those who cannot move themselves.

You can only witness the Spirits of Dance with an open mind, and an open heart. They will not reveal themselves to those who choose not to believe, for they have nothing to prove to anyone, just as existence need not prove itself. But to catch the Spirits of Dance as you see them here, you must pay attention; you can barely allow yourself a blink. Unless of course, you can see with your eyes closed.