The Landscapes May Be Different, But We Are All the Same.
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Chaotic, celebrated life, bursting in moments, loving in seconds, carrying me always, tricking me mostly, never leaving me alone, waiting for me to truly find myself, guiding me toward the magician; the creator of things, the performer and the illusionist.
Let his magic tuck me in at night and comfort my cry. Let the cape of his magician character swoop me up and show me other worlds. Let the spray of words fall from my fingertips. Let my words fall into feelings. I need to know that I am here and that I was here. I need more evidence than just the sway and pulse of my unique mass. I need to break from that which holds me in.
I need to feel through the numb void. There is so much more to life than just taking up space.
What are the things that make a footstep real? I will no longer be plagued by the contours of my skin. I can no longer say that the mirror defines me. I am not my skin, eyes or hair, as I am what exists within it all. I am not the blood, heart, stomach or any other part that makes up my mass. I am, however, the witness within it.
What will it take for my soul to find me? What will it take for my soul to fill me? I sit in solace on a dock that consumes me. I sit alone with its water wake crashing. Slowly it will find me in all of its dark closure. Slowly it will sink in, and the screaming in my head will no longer be a stranger.
I wonder what is it about night that consumes? I am haunted, intrigued, and yet feel suffocated in its cover. I yearn to see what light the day brings. May I always follow the haunt within — the gray mystery leading my cold feet across broken ground. I will not be afraid of the dark. I will not create shadows in my mind. I will close my eyes and let the enchanting electricity lead the way.
I am dreadfully excited as my jumpy heartbeats bring me to the present. I will gracefully follow you, my wistful haunt, and let you take me wherever you need me to go — to spirits of land and essence of things in grace — and the mystic you will be my path.
I am witnessing life through the eyes of my being. Bring me back to my wave, take me to my boat on an endless sea, let the still, blue water rock it so I could lose my drama. I want to feel small, lost and swallowed up by the unknown. I want to lose myself to find myself.
I want to be the sole captain on my ship, and whether we float or sink is up to the sea that carries me. I will not mourn either way, but will catch the moment on my tongue. I will hold my hands up toward the sky, let the breeze break my consciousness, and with a bold hunger, I will cling to the words, “Take me to everyday moments, yet away from the everyday.”
Let me follow circus performers, their blazed trail of rebellious life-seekers. I want to march among them, no longer worrying about how I appear. I want to live a life crazed; let my actions lead my mind and take away the filter that walls in my soul. Let me scream like a madman and laugh like I am drugged. I want to feel so much that my body can no longer contain me.
I will not tiptoe through life. I will be heard and not left behind. I want my short story to be of my adventures that lead me to connection, love and life with others. The landscapes may be different, but we are all the same.
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Rachel Hardman is a local resident of Draper, Utah, and has lived in Utah most of her life. She is your ordinary, everyday person who decided to step out and pursue her dream, and wants to inspire others to do the same. To her, life is all about the things that make you crazy excited, continually smile, get up in the morning, feel alive, and especially want to live life! She loves the word ‘magic’ because, to her, it encompasses anything and everything. Anything is magical and can be, because with magic anything is possible. If allowed, magic will consume and claim your curiosity. It will take you from a confined space to one that is unlimited and excitingly mysterious.
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