Sync

Do you need to be inspired to write?
Apparently that's not the rule.

It is my rule.

And even as I sat down to write this, feeling slightly inspired, I feel it slipping from my fingers. Like sand. I cannot hold onto inspiration. It is inspiration that holds on to me. Hold me now, muse. Hold me tight.

I spent the weekend in Atlanta. The weekend flew by just like I was afraid it would. The old adage, "time flies when you are having fun" is so true. I had an amazing time. Shelby and I drove down on Friday afternoon. We reached Atlanta after the sun had set, and the city lights seemed to burn against the sky. The only way to drive into Atlanta is at night. The city's spirit is out then, and you can catch a glimpse of her character.

As we drove, I felt something rising in my chest. As if the dam had broken, and the chambers of my heart were filling up. I laughed out loud. Shelby asked me what I was laughing for. "I feel like Tiffany... my heart is happy!" We listened to American Pie as we drove into the city. The words still echo in my ears. "And we sang bye, bye miss American Pie..."

On Saturday, Tiffany and I got up and watched a parade on campus. Then we met Rachael in Atlanta. I was determined to stand up for myself, to be assertive. As much as I love Rachael, I have always let her walk all over me. I have let her confidence suppress me, and I worry far too much about what she thinks of me. We ate a late brunch at Java Jives. Buttermilk pancakes and black coffee and suppressed tears. We caught up on trips to Africa, loved ones, struggles, and goals. We talked about seasons of life and rent. Tiffany and I left, and my tears dried up.

On our way back, we passed old movies theaters that play indie films, Trader Joe's (an organic grocery store that sells $2.50 bottles of wine), and Piedmont Park. This is when I had my epiphany. The realization that it is, in places like these, where my soul meets my body. As if, finally, they fall into step together. The Anna who is organic and soulful and excited and ambitious. This is why I feel full. My soul is filling my heart. And I wonder how anyone could ever learn to love me, if I am not the person I love to be. How can I expect a man (or anyone for that matter) to see me, know me, love me... if it is not the real Anna he is seeing?

On Sunday, Shelby and I got into the car and headed home. Driving up I-75, Shelby looked over at me and said, "I am ready to be home." I paused and watched as Atlanta disappeared in the rearview mirror. It was daytime, and the city had lost her luster. Her homeless could not hide in the shadows, her grime was not glorified in bright lights. She was just a city. Where life happens. Where there are traffic jams and laundry to be done. "I'm ready to be home too," I told her. Five and a half hours later, we were.

And Monday came with all her hell. And I threatened to quit school. And I needed to cry. The tears won't come. Yet, I had another epiphany.

I can make Lexington anything I want it to be. This city can be my home. Geography has very little to do with our hearts. Unfortunately, this just means my greatest obstacle is myself. Oh, to be your own worst enemy. This is the challenge.

So I met dear Liza at Coffee Times tonight. I've halfway boycotted Starbucks in support of local houses. Especially fair trade ones. I walked into the shop and saw a collection of my favorite cards and a guy who was wearing really awesome socks. And Liza and I sat and drank macchiattos and I realized what kindred spirits we are....

What free spirits we are.

I'm sick and tired of writing about who I want to be.
Dreaming of what I want to do.
Of suppressing my heart and soul.

I'm ready for my soul to fill my body again.
For my outside to reflect my spirit.
For my heart to fall into step with my actions.

Nothing in my life right now is in sync. Nothing makes sense. I remind myself that this is just a season and "this too shall pass". Will it ever feel right again? Will it ever feel good? Even for a little while? This free spirit of mine is tired of being caged.

It will be a gradual transformation... as all true transformations are. Then one day, the cage door will fly open. And there will be wind beneath my wings.