Sometimes when I get the blahs, I don’t feel altogether there. As if my spirit has left my body I sit in a feeling of absence, while ironically aware. I can think, I can feel my body, and emotion is just submerged enough that I can see it through the water but am not currently experiencing it.
I search my psyche, the pages of my journal and the breeze running through the trees for meaning, passion, personal effects… And I appreciate what’s there - my favorite color, a pleasant temperature, a certain serenity - but I miss the girl in all of her effervescent spirit. Did something rob me of my essence, is a part of me somewhere unknown on another adventure, or are the stillness and silence just giving my soul (or psyche) the chance to rest?
There are rhythms to life that remain a mystery to us. What I do know – thanks to experience – is that this apathy, this absence of my zeal, won’t last. Best I can do is hope that the part of me who knows how to live life to the fullest is doing just that in some exotic faraway place. And that she’ll return with tantalizing remnants of a story that come to me one day in déjà vu glory.