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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2189325-Restless-Soul
Rated: E · Monologue · Biographical · #2189325
random musings from a cluttered mind seeking whatever it is my soul so desperately craves
I tried to relax the other day. Tried being the operative word. I am not good at relaxing. I know this and yet, I was determined.
It started with a drive. I was uncertain of my destination but it wasn't long before my innate planner emerged and I turned to Yelp for assistance. Maybe it was just an excuse to stop for coffee. In any event, Yelp gave me too many options. I settled on a Wildflower Reserve, primarily because it was far enough away that it felt like a journey and the wildflowers are best in late-April, according to user JoeBinge732. Being as it is late April, maybe it was Kismet. Or coincidence. No matter, I had a destination.
The drive was unremarkable. It started out strong A little bit of Janis can go a long way but by the time I reached my destination I was already feeling let down. It's to be expected. 45 minutes just does not have the same soul restorative qualities as an 8 hour midnight quest to meet the sun rising over a coastal vista. However, as mentioned, I was determined. I had mission and I was going to achieve it.
I grabbed my pack, laden with protein, fruit and water. I swept my hair up in a bun and I hit the trail. Well, kind of. I had a few false starts and there were poorly labeled loops around the parking lot that kept bringing me right back to where I had started. If that isn't indicative of my current state of mind, I don't know what it. Eventually, I found the trailhead. As I trudged through bramble and brush, I realized that I was not taking in any of my surroundings but, rather, I was forging ahead as if I had somewhere to be. Forcing myself to slow my pace and look around, listening to the chirping of the birds over head, the skittering of four legged creatures in the distance and the alternating crunch and squelch of the gravel and muck underfoot, I willed myself to relax. For my mind to be still and my soul to quiet. Mile one, two and then three, I pushed on, seeking the quiet. In the distance I heard water. Ah, my mind sighed. There. I will find peace there. Another mile, a number of switchbacks and a failed attempt or two to capture a whimsical and prosaic photo of my trek, I achieved my destination. It did not disappoint. Beauty abounded. Water bugs skittered and skated across the surface of the water. Trees, budding and heavy with the promise of the color and shade poised to burst forth as spring advances towards summer hung idyllically over rippling water as it danced over, under and around moss laden stones. Just as beautiful and peaceful as one could hope.
And yet, the restlessness bubbling beneath the surface of my skin persisted. Almost like an itch one cannot scratch, the restless agitation is pervasive and penetrating.
© Copyright 2019 Margaret Manders (arosethorn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2189325-Restless-Soul