In the whirlpool of white penny tiles, swirling cacophony of conversations, embraces, and nostalgic languages...I am reminded of the vague patterns I am entrapped within. This proverbial canvas I visit often during the week has the capacity to catch me for a blink of a moment to remind me of the perpetual polar patterns I cycle through during various chapters of my life without acknowledging it as so. Until perhaps now. Shifting unpredictably between periods of perpetual motion and lazy silence; ambitious professional drive and productive indifference; content cheerfulness and sluggish melancholy; intense wants and surrendered sacrifices. I am perpetually toggling between the measures of my own symphony in various remixes. As a friend said this evening, these polar extremes that are observed of me is what captures my charm. I guess to those who understand the chaos required to stabilize my so-called norm, these extremes I embody can be charming; however for those who make peripheral assumptions, I suppose my life could be obnoxiously alarming. As in many of my dreams, I tend to simultaneously view myself from both positions. Struggling from within and observing from an intimate proximity. Do vague patterns persist as a mechanism to evolve our thoughts about our existence during various life stages, chapters, and cycles? Are we such creatures that we need to have our character drummed into us through our circumstances until we are mature enough to understand and interpret the music that has been playing all along? After a long day of motion and mental deliberation, I cycle back and relinquish into rest.
