Yesterday I took a walk and found myself in front of Central Park. It was a rainy day with dusk setting in and what it created was a magic hour. The mist settled through the trees, over the frozen lake, mingling with the white snow and golden lamp posts...and it took my breath away. I stood enraptured, walking further into the park to disappear into the mist. Claimed by its haunting beauty. I felt tears come down my face the melancholy beauty it touched me so. I could not take enough pictures. I felt all at once alive, in pain, a spark of something, energy and everything wrapped in that moment. It was pure me. This moment of beauty was all mine. Like a living embodiment of a poem I conjured up. And nothing could take it away, taint it, convince me otherwise. That decisive feeling was so rare.
It spoke so much to the dark poet in me, the edgar allen poe, the robert frost and keats in me.
I remember, years ago, when I had made a vision board and I had a lot of black and white pictures on there, and there was one of a couple walking down a misty stretch of beach. I remember saying, "I want someone I can be sad with." I did end up getting that, while the relationship lasted he never judged or explained away or grew tired of my tears and melancholy heart. That was the one beautiful thing about our relationship. Until it ended, I felt safe reveling in the dark heart of mine. He would drive me by the beach when it was raining so I could lean back, with my arm out the window listening to a moody song. That was my moment.
I wish I had more of these decisive moments in my life where I didn't have to think, I just felt the rightness of the moment, the feelings that went with it and could just be in it, knowing it was true. Because it was me. Just me.
There was no age, I was the sum of all the moments of my life where I felt this present and alive. And enthralled with the beauty and magic of the moment.