Used to Be


I used to be beautiful, 
I used to be Spirit,
I used to be Me.

I used to Love.

I used to pray.
I used to love sun,
and sky,
and rain,
and music,
and trees.

I used to be graceful.
I used to be freed
by poems
and people
and prayers.
They used to be part of me.

I used to be real.
I used to try.
I used to be gracious.
I used to cry.
I used to have Truth and Beauty inside.

I used to be beautiful,

Where am I?

Written by my Mommy

There's a lot to digest in this one. To me it seems obvious that part of the poem is about our youth lost with time, but I don't wanna say that's all of that's here. The lines about "I used to love" and "I used to be real" speak to another part of me. They connect with the part of me that exists beneath the mask I put on to interact with the world. The part of me that isn't using memorized dance steps to respond to life according to how I've been trained. 

The part of me that used to *feel alive*, ya know?

I can still relate with the poem. I definitely feel like there's a more visceral part of me that somehow got left behind along the way, but the more I think about it the more I realize that's not the case. It's just that all those things that seemed to light my fire when I was a young man just starting out seem routine now. The feeling is kinda like how once you've been in a hot tub for a while, it doesn't feel as hot anymore. 

Experience has turned youthful exuberance into a wary caution, but in return I get to experience life in a more complete way. Higher understanding turned those wildfires into something manageable that I can use to get the most out of life.

I guess for me, the answer to the question "Where am I?" at the end of Mommy's poem would be: "Right where I've always been. I'm just not who I used to be anymore."

I dunno. Sometimes I think I'm just spewing nonsense to sound wise and I'm pretty sure this interpretation was one of those times. Do with that what you will.

Thanks for the existential crisis, Mommy! Cya next week!!!