(c) 2004-2010 i.m. ruzz
model: aura

sometimes i feel like i’m on the outside looking in on my life.

the things that matter to me are waiting just beyond the window. warmth, comfort, peace, beauty all sit just outside my reach, just within my view.

and you can see tiny parts of me reflected. never all of me, never enough to really know myself. just enough to know someone is there. someone who could be anyone if they just stepped out of the dark long enough to let some light help define them for us.

i’ve been blessed with a closeness to beauty all my life. i’ve often felt i was given access to a world that wasn’t meant for me. that somehow i was an unwanted interloper granted access to somehow record these things i see in words, or photos, or sketches, maybe paints. but i was never meant to consume or partake in the beauty, only observe.

and by virtue of the grace of some beautiful minds, hearts, and bodies I’ve probably been closer and more tangled up in that world than i ought to have been. but even in those brief moments, where i am invited, or wanted, there is always still some sort of barrier.

a lens, a history, a fear.

you shouldn’t do accounting against physical experience. it never adds up. the numbers are always fabrications to make things make sense, or blatant lies.

and i try to remind myself, as i come separated—yet again—from the only thing which really ever interested me, how fortunate i have been. how blessed to even have things worth lamenting. how maybe the costs of following the things i find beautiful, or meaningful, will leave me broke, alone, and bitter when beauty finally shuts the door for good.

there are physical costs set to feeling. consequences to engaging your experience. and they are tallied eventually. paid for eventually.

i watch, removed, my own life develop in unexpected ways. i try to count the gifts, and kindnesses, and let go of the slights, crushing defeats, and long periods of darkness. i try to take each moment as it’s offered. shaping nothing. forcing nothing. demanding nothing. watching in awe at how life moves of its own accord.

but there are times when this position, or technique for living comes with losses too much to stand. questions too hard to face. and in the long winter night i’m often left asking if directing your life makes more sense than watching it.

is there really more beauty or happiness in getting what think you want?