Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about taproots. Beautiful, knotted messes we keep stowed in crevices, buried deep down under, hidden from the slightest exposure to rays of light. Tucked for safekeeping under layer upon layer of silted sands, bedrock and igneous stone. A mishmash of idiosyncrasies, insecurities, shame, fear, wonder, bliss, jealousy, self hatred, and hopefully, a mainline of love.
These roots were upturned by a one-hundred year flood. Exposed to the elements - water, sun, sky - they looked free to me.
A beautiful tangled mess.
And I wish we could go back and do it all over again.
It reminds me of my brain right now (I hope).
Found:: gifts from the flood
I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.
I don’t know where I fit in.
But I know I’m alive.
And I don’t know if I’ve found real love,
But I know last night, I saw the Universe
And the meaning of Everything in the setting sun blazing over the tips of the late summer grasses.
I can’t describe it.
I was so in love,
Right there and then,
I wanted to die and live forever.
"Is it possible to love so desperately that life is unbearable? I don’t mean unrequited, I mean being in the love. In the midst of it and desperate. Because knowing it will end, because everything does. End.”
-Peter Heller, The Dog Stars