October 16, 2019

icy blue waters; a poem to the atlantic

i let my hair down from the day old bun; still damp, the scent of the atlantic still heavy from yesterday when i jumped into the icy blue waters, because i knew if i did not, i would regret it.
just three hours later, i would be leaving maine, a place i had dreamt of visiting since a small child.
though it was only a week, i felt at home on each of those days. little portland, i hold you dear.
the following is a bit i wrote on my stay.

there's this sense of quiet responsibility. a sense of "it'll happen when it happens", no need to worry, honestly, no need to stress.
maine isn't busily bustling. i felt like the oddball out, but only because i chose to be. i felt like i was the one rushing, like i was the busiest person there, and meanwhile; i'm the one on vacation
its just a slower life in maine. constantly trying to draw me in, to enjoy the moments i was living: this a large reason why i chose maine. it was a constant reminder, as this is so opposite of how i live my life, to appreciate the time i had, to slow down, and just be mindful. 
i let it draw me in, but i had to do that mindfully, as it doesn't come naturally. but each time i did, i felt my body healing, processing, able to think about the things i came here to process and delve into, instead of scatteredly going from one thing to the next.
i didn't get done nearly everything i wanted to get done, but i think that's the whole point. way down deep, i knew that wasn't going to happen, but the bustling version of me expected it because it knows what i'm capable of.
i guess, for once, the deep down needed to come out, and maine brought that out for me, and finally, for the first time in as long as i can remember: i was able to relax.

no. maine is not home, but damn if she didn't try. 
xx, rn
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yes, you have a beautiful soul.