30 March, 2008

Bookstores

I went to Barnes and Noble today. It was relaxing and good. I spent a lot of time walking around the kids' book section. It's a place that often brings me peace. There is a simplicity in the shelves, a reminder of how we should be among the simple stories of daring and adventure, devoid of the things that we are forced to face as adults.

I read a book and cried. To be honest I've been doing that a lot lately. I have become a bit of a weeper. It's true. A cheesy show, a picture, a good line, a book, the right story sends me over the edge. I don't know why this is happening, this inability to keep hold on my tear ducts. Probably because somewhere along the way of trying to subdue my cynicism I asked God to break my heart and make me more sensitive.

Lesson: be careful what you ask for.

But it's good. Though it does drain a person, to be so emotional about life. And it puts me in this constant battle of dealing with how heavily I feel things now and the act of appearing strong. I lost it on Friday - fortunately someone was there to walk with me. I was standing outside the Board dinner - lost in my thoughts. Not really there. Someone asked me how I was and I lost it. I lowered my head and cried, desperate to hold back the tears that will no longer be silenced.

How am I do live, being this raw? How am I to be useful when I am so tossed around by whatever is going on? I am on this pendulum of going from being peeved, to sad, to weary. Where is the equilibrium? Where is the normalcy in all of this?

And yet, in the dark, I feel a hand massaging my heart. Healing it slowly, keeping it beating when it doesn't have the energy to go on its own. I've come to rely on this hand, on this comfort. I whispers quietly, "I Am." And for tonight that's enough.

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© Amanda Lunday