Mackerel Night

Underneath the glisten of the summer moon they'd come. Mackerel, that is, hundreds of them, twisting and turning, their silver bodies luminous as they'd flirt with surface of the sea. We'd sit on the edge of the old dock, toes hovering just above high tide, hands entwined, staring into the warmth of the night, lost in an arbitrary rhythm as the tangled heaping of fish collided with the side of the dock. You never wasted a minute once they arrived, working with a prudent elegance; bating, casting, reeling, steadying yourself against the lapping waves as they kissed the sides of the dock and dispersed into a foamy white froth. The Mackerel were waiting for us. Waiting to fulfill their tacit purpose, to become undone; to be plucked, and cut, and seared in your granite kitchen and cast iron skillet. The sizzle, a monotonous hum, as you basted and buttered their delicate flesh in an array of color and spice. Your work of art, presented to me in a veil of pride, topped with oregano and a kiss. And after the feast, we'd demand our swollen bodies to move, racing to the tip of the sea, shedding walls and clothes, and stand in a hollow silence together as the surf grabbed our toes, and our feet sunk into the dampen earth; waiting for the Mackerel to come again.
You cook for a different crowd now. West north west, across horizons and three thousand miles. And I remain, wondering what dreamy silence, what savory spice, what dark night is waiting... waiting to undo me.

The Moment

do you know what it feels like to be alive?
that fiery urgency I'm talking about, the intense sense of thriving, of awakening,
of being on fire.
i want to be in that moment forever.
the moment I feel alive.
when the jumbled ocean of  faces becomes a wave of numbers and color. when the array of asics and mizuno's tap the pavement in the first step forward
onward
into a world of motion and persistence and desire.
a world to endure, to maintain,
and embrace because my very essence of vitality confides in the rhythmic pounding of my heart,
in the wisp of the wind on my cheeks,
in the lustrous sun warming me to the tips of my fingers and toes.
and nothing else exists
and i am alone
with the fleeting of my feet underneath me
to trudge the line between pain and pleasure
and there is no going back.
i am defined, i am in love,
and some people might say I am crazy.
but I'm really holding on,
i'm letting go.                  

I'm set free.

Spring Break

Spring Break 2012 is here! Over the last couple months I have spent many hours pondering my celebratory festivities for this years break. Should I fly to Paris or spend a week touring the Mediterranean? Or perhaps a cruise to the Caymen Islands with a large group of boisterous friends? Or maybe, for a quieter setting, a private flight to Turks and Caicos where I could relax on the beach and sip daiquiri's all day long?
Obviously, I was thinking much to broad. So I thought I would be more realistic. California? New York? (Even more realistic than that.) Florida? (I goggled the definition of "realistic".) South Carolina? (Getting closer.)... Myrtle Beach? (Even closer.)....
You guessed it. I am staying at home this spring break. Not horrible, considering my home is the beach, but it's no tour around the Mediterranean.
However, I am determined to have a great break no matter where I am! And i think everyone else that isn't traveling for spring break should do the same. So I have prepared a great list of all the wonderful things you can do to make sure you have an awesome spring break.

AME'S GREAT LIST OF THINGS TO DO OVER SPRING BREAK

Draw a picture- of a horse
Re-design the White House
Read a book- The Hunger Games for me!
Go shopping (everyday)
Workout- twice a day
Dye your hair blonde
Clean your room
Clean my room
Do laundry
Write a blog
Write a stupid blog
Spend hours on Pinterest (without feeling guilty)
Shave your legs
Run a road race (or two or three)
Pierce your clavicles
Find a new roommate
Whiten your teeth
Brush your teeth
Clean your room again
Lighten your eyebrows
Go to Church
Go to work
Go to sleep
Buy a bikini
Stare at your bikini
Think about how you want to look in your bikini
Go back to the gym
Throw up
Run around naked
Take a shower
Eat 1000 Oreos
Paint yourself blue
Take a picture of yourself in the mirror
Go on a date
Go to the beach
Go to the beach in your bikini
Freeze your ass off
Realize your stupid for going to the beach in your bikini
Act stupid
Create a new word
Watch a ballet
Eat a funnel cake
Marvel at the nice weather
Complain about the weather
Do a rain dance
Complain about the rain
Get a personal trainer
Get a new car
Get a goldfish
Get a tattoo
Get a life
Call your mom
Call your dad
Call your distant cousins
Sleep in
Feel lazy
Study...hahahahaa

Enjoy.

As God as my Witness

As God as my witness

lest should I boast,

I have felt a love better than most.

A fire’s fervent blaze or gentle

wave of the sea.

A fervor as tempting

as heaven would be.

Love’s longing does render

no mercy bestowed,

but an unfathomable splendor

my heart may explode.

And change I would not,

though my love is now far,

you’ll always remain

close to my heart.

And as God as my witness,

lest I should pray,

I’ll love again like that someday.

Race

Yesterday, everything I’ve been working towards for the past five months did not come to an end, but a beginning. It sparked the beginning of a passion, it lit a fire, a strength, and a determination; it was the start of something great.

Words cannot express how I felt after leaving the starting line at Coastal Grand Mall in Myrtle Beach. With the rising suns cascade of colors flooding the horizon and Jordan Sparks, “This is my now,” playing on my MP3, I couldn’t help but smile (almost cry). Never have I felt more alive, more in the moment, and more content with being exactly where I was, doing exactly what I was doing. And as I settled into pace as we rounded the mall, breathing in deep the chill of the wind and salt of the ocean, I felt a passion I’ve yet to experience.

 After running my first half marathon, I can proudly say I am in love. I’m in love with the feeling of working for something. I’m in love with the temptation and persistent desire to push myself beyond my limits and past my capabilities of endurance. I am in love with blurring the line between running and flying, pain and pleasure, fatigue and the feeling of being more alive than ever.

I can’t wait to do it again. 

Horizon

We often focus so much on trying to write the definition to our lives and in the midst of this forget that many times it is life that ends up defining us. The years shape far more than the face in the mirror. Whether there is a method to this madness or not remains unclear. We try to place together the many puzzle pieces of our existance all the while assuming that there is indeed a master blueprint to be followed, a pattern to take shape, a known quantity to be found.

All that can be known is that time does seem to change at least most things. Wounds may heal, but scars are always left behind even when they go unnoticed or ignored. Like wind on stone, we are worn down. Like wood in the hands of the Whittler we are changed in an instant and are never the same again. Contours form where once was youthful innocence. It seems we are much more the sum of our scars than that part of us that remains unscathed.

Free will plays its part, yet more often than not, in reprising its usual role of choosing how to handle circumstance rather than defining the circumstance itself. This uncertain entity we call life trudges perpetually on with a deaf ear turned to both our approval and rejection. We cannot stop moving forward even when we desire nothing more than a momentary pause. What remains is only to choose the direction we want to go. From there we wait to see what mysterious horizon waits to greet our sojourner eyes.

The Station

Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scenes of cars on nearby highways, or children waving at a crossing, or cattle grazing on a distant hillside, or smoke pouring from a power plant, or row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, or mountains and rolling hillsides, or city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering- waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.
"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry. " When i am 18." When I buy my new Mercedes-Benz!" When i put the last kid through college." When i get a promotion." When i read the age of retirement, i shall live happily ever after."
Sooner or later we much realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only an illusion. It constantly outdistances us.
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.