Yesterday:
Walking through the park, the concrete path darkened by the morning drizzle. I could smell the crisp air and feel its coolness entering my lungs. I walked with a friend.
We spoke. As we spoke, I found myself filtering out the natural thoughts that came to my mind. I lived with deep thoughts. Situations from my past created a brain so full of complexly detailed thoughts and ideas about life and death that I had to filter them out. I had to filter them out because I was older. I had to filter them out because I had experience. I had to filter them out because I became comfortable, excepting and challenging with the words that shake others off their feet. The words that make humans feel uncomfortable - the words they can and do not speak. My friend, oh my rich sheltered friend, could never understand my words.
We talked about the weather. We talked about homework. We talked about racing. But within each crook of our conversation, my mind was moving with its thoughts in a different direction. It could not be just about the rain, but about how the rain made one feel. I could not just be about the articles one wrote, but about the purpose and impact they had on one's heart. It could not be just about what one does, but why and for who could it ultimately be for? This friend was comfortable walking in the rain. I was comfortable pondering the rains of our purpose in the world. We walked with what felt like a line between us. This line that I always felt between me and the rest of the people in the world.
When I spoke I was building a bridge between our comfort zones. My inhibition wanted to push me farther away down the rolling green hills and bounding right back to the books that started all my questioning. But I stayed. I stayed and I spoke, and the words I spoke where my own, and finally I took the risk - the risk to challenge ignorance - the risk to understand what I did not see before: the purpose for people hiding from truth is that they cannot except beyond what is before them. In the past, no one dared my friend to understand. No one dared my friend until I did.
We were both silent after my passionate and jumbled river of words. Good. Evil. Purpose. Passion. Existence. My friend stayed and absorbed my words, my language.
I’ve learned the art of speaking what the world wants to hear. In the past, I would talk about the weather. In the past, I would talk about the recent football game. In the past, I would talk about everything that the people surrounding me were comfortable to hear. Then I changed. The real Sara gained stability and strength and her real words broke free like like mustangs running without being chased, living who they were breed to be- wild with the language of their movement - their language in the air swept across their thundering and racing faces.
We spoke different languages before that walk in the park.
I owned exciting knowledge about the world. I owned the ability to ponder and experience the depths of good and evil. I owned these concepts within my mind. But I did not share them. I did not share them until this day when I was walking in the park, uncomfortably silent and I asking myself what good is knowledge when it is selfishly hoarded by the lucky-brained?
This thought changed the way I looked at my own life and knowledge. Knowledge became a gift I was given by something greater than me instead of a gift I was entitled to all along.
Today:
Today my language draws people in through its slightly unintentionally placed romantic flair. My language draws the beautiful concepts of good and evil. My language understands detail in the way that humans blink and eat and laugh and sing and live and love. Before, it only spoke to the birds and trees and the shapes of the clouds, but today, it speaks to all.
When my friend finally spoke, her words were not words but a simple movement of her head. A nod. But then, gradually pooling like puddles in the dents of the earth our voices turned into whispers and we continued to walk in motion with the windy trees. I no longer heard it alone - she could hear it too.
My language speaks answers that are out of this world. My language looks at everyone and sees that all of us humans are looking into the distance - the distance of our vision comes from the depth of our own mind.
The universe is filled with stars that people forget to look at at night. They stay inside their homes and lock their doors because when they step out and look into the powerfully lit sky there must be something that is speaking to them too, something that whispers within them that this world could not exist without being intelligently designed.
…
I learned about my voice.
I learned that alone is where thoughts are born, but not where they should be kept.
I learned that although humans hide from words they fear, some listen, and
the few that do, become apart of the group who speak the language of the future.
The few that do, have the words to change the world.
Tune in next week for the next section of my book!