Painfully Perfect

23 Apr

I just went running in the park and it was so beautiful it hurt.  Like, I would never be able to take all that amazingness in, you know?  I’m not equipped to handle it; I’m wired for depression and anxiety, worry and struggle, repetitive obsessive thoughts and endless list-making.  My senses are so dulled from the craziness and hectic pace of day-to-day life that I barely notice the new baby leaf buds uncurling themselves from tree branches.  Just barely.  And if a lightening bug happened to flit by me, I might notice it in my periphery and sort of maybe register it and then keep walking, thinking about what I forgot that I forgot to do that day, or what I have to remember to do tomorrow.  I likely would not pay its alighted form the kind of attention I would have when I was a kid, and spent an entire dusky summer evening with friends, but lost in my own world, chasing them around my yard, mesmerized.

After my run I sat on a bench facing the water and breathed.  My mind was empty, calm and clear, and I could feel all 360 degrees of my beautiful surroundings.  I wanted to soak in this moment, to swim and swirl around in it; to do somersaults and backflips and underwater breathless handstands, but I climbed out before I had even adjusted to the temperature and feel of it.  I climbed out thinking, “What a perfect moment, I should write about this moment,” and then I started drafting it in my head, “I’ll start like this and it will go like that and this part over here will be really great.”  And that’s how I lost my moment.

I walked home as the sun was setting wrapped up in my inner monologue and missed 99.7% of all the beauty available to me on the way.

Whenever I take a dip in a perfect moment it feels like falling, to let go of my anxious thoughts that anchor me in the existence I know so well.  And I almost immediately realize that I can’t stay there long before the thoughts return.  In some weird way, constant thinking stands guard, and protects me from painfully perfect moments, because how scary and powerful would that be, to let go of everything and just feel quiet, calm, connected, peaceful and…happy.

But I’m glad they took a break and abandoned their post, maybe to grab a quick cup of coffee or smoke a cigarette, and left my mind unguarded, even if for just a fleeting moment.

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