escape
I long for escape these days. I fantasize of getting up at daybreak one of these mornings and getting into my car and driving, with no set destination in mind. In the company of only a few of my most precious belongings, I want to roll the windows down and feel the wind on my face. I want to sing at the top of my lungs, songs of endings and beginnings, songs of sadness and loss and freedom and peace. I want to drive past the towering buildings and back up into the mountains. I want to find a place where the ground is covered in white and the silence is deafening. I want a place to read and think and write. I want to find a haven in which I can escape from the world of responsibility and deadlines and complexity.
I know this feeling well, too well. This feeling of wanting to run far away, to escape the overwhelming sensations of reality, to find solace in solitude. After knowing this feeling time and time again for so many years, I know the origin of this desperate desire. It only comes when I reach the edge. It only happens after my long hikes up the mountain. Hikes in which I have imagined the view from the top so well that the images of the breathtaking vista grow in anticipation with each step. Until at last I reach the peak of the mountain, I stand firmly on the edge, and I look down to find that there is nothing there. The beautiful vista has only been another disillusion of my mind, and I am faced with a choice. Do I turn around and climb back down the mountain, hoping that the next mountain I climb will offer the magnificence of my dreams? Or do I allow myself to fall from the edge?
So many mountains I’ve climbed, so many times I’ve reached this edge. Many times I have jumped, allowing the desolation to envelop me as I plummet into emptiness. A few times I have simply turned around and walked back down the mountain, building up new dreams in my head of the other mountains I shall climb. In essence, I have managed to escape, in some fashion, each time I have reached the edge. Never have I even entertained the possibility of just staying there on the edge. Never have I allowed myself to realize that should I just sit and wait, perhaps the vista I have dreamed of will roll into view.
I’m at the edge again, and I’m terrified. My instincts are to run. At moments I think I could easily turn around and continue my hike throughout the range. Other moments are so burdened by exhaustion that the idea of jumping seems a blessing in disguise. But no matter how appealing escape seems, I have realized throughout the years (and many attempts to escape) that it is impossible to escape from oneself. And so here I am again, but this time I will sit on the edge. I will feel the wind upon my face as I sit here and I will cherish the deafening silence that surrounds me, even at this frightening height. I will sit, I will wait, and maybe tomorrow’s sunrise will bring the view that is harbored in my soul.
posted by tara dawn @ 7:54 PM
12 Comments:
Over the last few posts you are sounding braver and stronger. You are going through so much right now, but every word you write shows that you are going to make it through this. Keep strong and hold on. You are amazing. Sending so much love.
Often, when the smoke clears after facing down a dragon, or climbing a mountain, I find myself disappointed at some level that the people around me don't seem to notice the epic struggle that's just gone on. I then realize that somehow, subconsciously, I expected the world to become a different place.
But often things seem to putter along for the rest of the world much as before. This used to really upset me. At times it still does. That said, though, I'm realizing that what really happens during those mountaintop experiences is a change in me, not in the circumstances of the world around me.
It is in the "what comes next" blocks of time when the new-and-improved me begins to change what surrounds me. The mountaintop experience may subjectively be the most astonishing thing that's possibly ever happened... but it's still largely internal. It is only after you walk back down (not running, just going about your business) that the new you begins to impact the world. You live in it differently. It is *then* that things begin to change- not just on the mountaintops, but also in the valleys.
Don't lose heart. The fact that you're questioning the instinct to run means you've grown since the last time you were here.
You have grown a great deal over the years and it has been such a joy to be on the journey with you...
And you know I'll always jump, hike and sit with you...
I love you!
You are the best writer I know, I felt like I was on that cliff watching you. I was frightened for you, then proud as I saw you waiting, knowing you will wait for "the view."
Much love,
Tammy
Oh Tara, my heart is sitting there beside you, waiting for the beautiful view you so deserve to see. I know exactly that feeling you're describing, of wanting to escape, of wanting to pick up in the morning and just drive aimlessly. I feel that way so often.
This is so beautifully written. I love the idea of the mountains, those dreams we build on the way up, the disappointment we feel when things aren't as we hoped. You are so brave to sit atop one and wait for the coming peace. I am so proud and inspired by your courage. The view will come. It will...
Do yourself a favor - when you get to the top of the mountain, look over your shoulder and see how far you've come. I think that's where the true beauty is. It takes strength to admit that you've run from things in the past, and I think that strength is enough to help you get through it this time. Thank you for writing these entries, and allowing us to travel on this journey with you. Sending love, as always. :)
Oh, I know this struggle well. Probably, too well! I am definitely a runner. When things get too scary I bolt. I'm just beginning the courage it takes to sit and wait. They say that the reward of patience is patience. Until all you desire reveals itself...enjoy the view. Thanks so much for your knid words on my blog. They mean a lot to me. Much love to you.
I am at a loss for any wise or comforting words to respond to these past few posts yet I want to post a comment just to let you know that I am witnessing your struggles and wishing you well.
As always, very poignant. Remember and take strength in the fact that you can step away from the rush of your life happening and see that it is in fact happening in ways you can't control but have to roll with anyway. Seeing the bigger picture of your life is vital for moving on to whatever that next thing is. You've got incredible strength, Tara Dawn.
Reading through everyone's comments just now, I just want to say "I second that Tara!" to each and every one of them. I remember when I was in grad school myself to become a therapist and how all the books and class discussions brought up so much for me, for everyone. I never saw myself or my family the same again, and ultimately, it was so freeing. I developed a level of empathy and understanding then that I didn't even know I lacked at the time, and the reality is you are obviously in a new chapter of your life's work, and anyone reading your writing can see you are courageous and creative enough to turn these struggles into gold. Hang in there!
If you can, ER is doing an ALS episode tonight. Just doing my part for awareness :)
Stop by and grap me. i will go and sing at the top of my lungs with you...I feel this way often.
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