Cold Soul
It is my 30th birthday.
I always thought I would feel so old today, but I don’t.
I still feel like a fresh little egg that gets excited about bright stars and a Staffies’ grin, because it reminds me of a smiling Stitch, proudly presenting Lilo with some form of new chaos.
I still laugh like I used to…Yes at myself, and yes, with the toilet humour of a 13 year old boy, but, I’m happy.
I manage to find passion in my overwhelming work days, my neuro-spicy humans help me ride the childlike waves of life with joy AND…I can still nail a lay up without dying for breath (most days).
So why do I still have a gut full of black-hole-knot-twisting-sad-panda emptiness taking up space in my soul right now?
When I was dreading the 30 year milestone, I made sure to plan all the things. I wanted the turn to be something to look forward to amongst the 30-days-of-new-dirty.
The plan kicked off with a week of exposing my pasty cheeks to the sunny shores of Vanuatu. Swiftly followed by a week of shredding the famous Australian ice peaks of the south east, and to conclude the end of my younger days, we of course, had a good old fashion bougie-beach-side hoe-down.
To which, I of course, wore black.
But as I donned my third (potentially) overthought layer to brave the Australian sleet, my body felt heavier than it should have.
I let my eyes blur with the trains’ sway.
When suddenly…
Flick!
My heavy eyes snapped open.
The outside white was still a mess of cookie dough, trying to so hard to be real vanilla, when I saw it.
I could make out its vague shape through the window, but only because as the mountains moved, it was the only thing that was still.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up.
Nope.
Yep.
Crap.
Definitely a shape.
Definitely outside.
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Crap.
It didn’t move with the trees and the leaves we were leaving behind in a pretty stream of muddled oil paints. It was blurred, but strangely clear, even at speed.
Spooked, but now stupidly locked in, I did the very thing everyone screams not to do, in every horror movie ever made, and I moved my face closer to the frosted window to get a better view.
As the mountains behind continued to blur to a vanilla cookie dough white, the stillness started to feel cold.
Before I could move, two clear hollows met my line and mirrored my frozen stare.
The hollows were framed with a lost sharp fur, that separated the holes of their soul…ever so slightly.
I inhaled too quickly as I pulled away from the window, choking on the cold air.
When I looked back it was gone.
Embarrassed, I glanced around the carriage and reminded myself to breathe.
It felt so completely human. The hollows felt so empty and done, but still so human.
Not exactly alive, not completely void of life’s light, but a wandering lost, an in between.
As I took another breath, I felt them coming.
Just as they had before, and I knew a message would ensue.
Right on time, with no schedule at all, just as they had always come, all those times before.
The angels began to whisper what needed earths air and voice.
Sadly this one was for me, as they whispered what I already knew…
I had been staring into the mirror of my own demise.
Every cold inch closer to the reflection of the hollow bones of soul.
Time has had enough of mockery now.
Be full, be well, waste not on trivial sorrow.
The time is now, to start anew.
Breathe deep through your fear, turn over and walk the pages written for you.
The time is now.
Start anew.
