Was it Patrick Henry who once said: “Give me liberty or give me death”? Supposedly I have liberty, or so I am told. But if my truth could be penned with quill, to stand through the ages, I would say……
Give me a view; some crows on the fence; some goats in the field. Give me the heart that knows pure love, so I may give it away to another. Give me a spirit to string words together which may make a difference in the world. Give me health and then allow it to kiss me generously. Give me the freedom to stay true to my dream. Give me equality, regardless of the discomfort. Give me the wisdom to understand the lessons I am to learn—and as I traverse them, let me posses the mettle to don them like my best Sunday go to Meetin’ Dress. Give me curiosity, then let its wind of adventure blow through my hair and grab a hold of my soul with such a grip, it ignites desire. And most of all–and this one goes right to the core of my heart–give me a wealth of friendships, the kind of friendships you travel through lifetimes with, and then show me how to grab my own strength and courage to love completely, right into the forever after. Friends, family, love—they all deserve that. This, THIS is what I consider a big life: to feel every feeling; to see every color; to embrace the gratitude that is put before you; a gratitude where you see the humor in the darkness and the darkness in the joy; the glory in the tears and celebration in those whom have passed. Don’t cheat me, play me, so I may be part of the song.
Regardless, what I consider a big life lived, or not, I am a simple girl. I am a girl who can sit and watch an autumn leaf tumble until it perishes, knowing in this breeze it is traveling its last time on this mortal earth. It’s of the divine, really, to think this world spins for life, speeds to death, slows to help us understand why. Why we are here; why we are with those we are born into; why do we make the choices we make; why do we turn our backs when it makes us feel so poorly about ourselves and possibly the most complex question: why us???
I read about the tumble weed the other day. As a child, I was enamored with them. I likened them to seashells—tumblin’ ‘neath the sea, but their sea was of desert winds. I always thought them alive, because they were tumble weeds; they were living, doing what they were designed to do. But I was wrong, they aren’t alive. They are born with roots, they grow a spine of many and tucked away in that spine are small seeds. It’s the weight of those seeds, that in time, pull those roots up and they tumble… tumble ‘top the sands once walked by the American Indians, tumble to sounds of the whistling wind; you know—tumble. And as they tumble, their seeds fall to the ground and life starts all over again.
I’m a tumbler of thoughts; my Father gave me that gift and I am forever grateful. I am an adventurer—I love the cut of the sail when I don’t see it coming: a new horizon; a view of the unexpected. It’s a challenge and a game I play to see how quickly I can adapt and make the puzzle of the unknown, known. I wonder if we are all like this. If we are all the tumbleweeds, tumblin’, tumblin’ and tumblin’ some more—spreading our seeds, uprooting life, aimless yet curious: Looking for a place to call home, while we are still searching and looking forward.
As I sit here right now, at my favorite writing desk: I see a familiar glimmer of autumn light. I know the swirling leaves skittering across the lands are close; I know we are nearing another calendar year-end and like the tumbleweed, please tell me I have garnered wisdom to carry me another year with a new grace. Is that simple? I cannot say; it may be just plain stupid, but it also may hold a secret poignancy for you; for me; for all of us.
Maybe liberty isn’t quite measuring up to the standards of why it was tendered; maybe the world is spinning backwards; but the crows are still standing on the fence; children are still cackling; songs are still being written and their melodies are still being plucked out with banjos; guitars; and fiddles—you name it.
And so, Mr. Henry, I get it: “Give me Liberty or Give me Death…” Because the rule of laws can lock us up in many ways; they can take us and drive us to ruin or lift us to flourish, but—the mind? How we think? We are free. We are free to be the leaf, should we desire to perish in the autumn’s light; we are free be the crows on the fence preening before a girl with a bit of envy. We are free to tumble any direction with any friend we choose. Such a simple statement; again, maybe Mr. Henry held his own secret poignancy and THAT is worth the ink and the tumble.
I wonder, yes I do… I wonder a lot.