A shift, someone called it once. The polarizing filter on my heart has spun, and all is cast into sharper relief. The colors more intense. My path less glaring.
The more I lose, the richer my possibilities become.
The more I risk, the safer this all feels.
Regret and loss remain, of course, and the pipevine I planted six years ago picked this week to grow exuberant at last. The swallowtails will feed on it when I am gone. I had hoped to watch them from my porch, and yet the desert has swallowtails enough.
How many more spins of this grand illuminated speck? One? Another fifty? I cannot know, and there is no sense in delaying my pursuit of beauty any longer. Life is short, too short. It is a terrifying beauty, as is most beauty when viewed correctly, and to face its full brunt is a task too daunting for most of us.
It is too daunting for me as well, but I have sought the secure my whole life, and eventually found it, and found it gratifying, and it is enough. It is enough. I have slaked my thirst for safety. It is time to rock my shoulders into position, flick my tail and flash my eyes, and leap.
It is a terrifying beauty, as is most beauty when viewed correctly
Function: adjective
Date: 1598
1: expressive of awe
2: inspiring awe
Awesome, Chris.
It is short, what we get. In the end, not much more than the dogs we love.
Leap.
Write.
Risk.
Regret.
Grieve.
Leap again.
Rock on, man.
Just keep writing about it.
Good. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” (Not the juvenile fear of Old Noboddady— The fear of the beauty of the stars.)
So glad to read this.
Not to trivialize your essay, but I had no idea you’ns had pipevines and pipevine swallowtails out there! Things of the humid eastern forest entirely, I’d have thought.
It’s Aristolochia californica out here, but yeah, we got ‘em.
The pipevine swallowtail is actually pretty widespread.