I wrote the following on January 31, 2008:
"The bridge burned. The path to the other side no longer exists, isolating all extremities of return. Maybe that is okay though, it’s not like you meant for it to happen, and this side is a new experience waiting to happen. It isn’t like you were going back to the other side anyway. How easily life can change; every day is a new opportunity for complete and utter chaos, yet we still manage to progress. The words around you, the open doors. Looking ahead is uncomplicated, but seeing where you started cannot be as easily seen. If you are quicker than whatever is chasing you, you don’t ever have to pay attention to it.
Constant motion is an impossibility. What about the man on the run, scared to death of standing still, what he might find, or what might find him. Never stopping to see not where he is going, but what he is passing along on the journey. If you don’t know where you are going, any road will lead you there, but stopping along the way to breathe in the smell of the patch of roses on the side of the road is what makes all the difference.
Crossing the burning bridge might not of been the miracle. Seeing that this bridge wasn’t meant to burn was. Maybe the hero is the one who looks back and sees something worth fighting for. Being content is knowing that no matter what change takes place, all you need is already a life long part of you. What would it look like to stop and just be small, to apologize, to listen? It is easy to make a new friend but perhaps the great miracle is to remember an old friend, to find them again, even in the wreckage. You start off running together, believing all the beautiful things, crossing all the terrible waters, and then suddenly you find yourself out front, running from the fires you started, running from the distance you created.
There is light in all of us. Seeing through the clouds of the starry night sky is all you need to find the universe in everyone."
