I just want to be better than your head's only medicine

{ Thursday, January 6, 2011 }
It was a beautiful day in Atlanta, deafened by heavy realizations.
I rose at the crack of dawn to accompany my parents to my mother's first post-operative meeting with her oncologist, and her outlook for the future is wonderful! My mom has never been healthier, and I feel as though my family and I can take a moment to truly exhale after so many months of anxiety. We are blessed.
Sterile environments like hospitals tend to make me antsy and wary, but a sense of calm was instilled within me this morning. However, being surrounded by the silently suffering certainly took its toll.
As I sat alone in the waiting room, with the 9 a.m. sun casting a single ray of hope through the window, I began to contemplate mortality and what it truly means. I watched an elderly man flip through a newspaper as he waited for his wife. His face was etched with lines, like a road map of his life. Wearing a two piece suit and astute glasses, I wondered what he had done with his life- a business man, a lawyer?- and pondered why, when, and where such unfair illness fit into the equation. A few minutes later his wife returned to the waiting room, clad in fine clothing, and I could tell she had once been beautiful. Vibrant. The elderly man stood and tenderly took his wife's hand, happily conversing while leading her to the exit. Whatever is infiltrating her body and attempting to steal her away, he refuses. I could instantly tell by the way he gazed at her. Love allows us to linger on.
My heart broke as I heard the whack whack of the children's life flight helicopter cut into the sky. I wondered how such innocent beings fall into terrifying predicaments. I believe that a sick child has more courage and strength than I will ever be able to fathom in my lifetime.

The sensory overload and observations only led me to one concrete realization: I need to live more.

I need to waste less days sleeping in and spend my mornings exploring, learning, or creating. I need to reach out to others to learn more about the human soul. I need to stop bottling up my feelings in fear of rejection, withholding them until my heart is full to burst. I've grown exhausted of the "could have been," "should have been," thoughts constantly meandering in my skull.
If I died tomorrow, I would leave this universe with an abundance of unfinished business, unspoken feelings, and a million little secrets I've been burning to share.
I'm living by a new philosophy.

-Lindsay

P.S: Young The Giant, my favorite little band, is coming to Atlanta March 12th, a mere nine days after the celebration of my 20th year on Earth! The show is at Vinyl, a really neat venue that I have yet to visit. Plus, admission is only $8! I believe I am treating myself to a night of beautiful music. (Or you know, roommates and dear friends that I know frequent this blog- you could share the experience with me!) Take a listen to my favorite song, "Cough Syrup." It's one of the few songs I have heard in my life that instantly expanded my musical horizons. They are a group of truly talented musicians.

1 comments:

Ben Reinhardt said...

Very interesting. I've been feeling very similarly recently. A jolt of productivity and exploration needs to hit my nervous system.

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