I’ve not heard of this gentleman, Christopher Poindexter, but his words remind me so much of being on the ice, or in a ballroom.
To dance or figure skate is – to me – like transcending spoken language, and speaking with the fluency (and vocabulary) of all the ages. It is as though I have the freedom to fly, though I haven’t (visible) wings with which to do so. And yet…it feels nigh impossible to share that “feeling” with those who haven’t felt it too.
As an Empath, I often question whether verbal language contains enough “words’ to capture emotion – for me, it falls short at times. Frequently, even…
One cannot capture the true and undiluted essence of flying with a pen (though if anyone would desire the ability to articulate such feelings accurately, I. . .and possibly Mr. Poindexter. . .would.)
I suppose that means we just have to be willing to fly, lest we not know the feeling of a movement that can – truly – set us free.
For Empaths, there is no nothing-ness – for every breath, and every moment, there are five senses, and beyond. We feel as if to do so is to sustain our very life itself.
I wrote a post just over one month ago… One month and five days, to be exact.
I wrote about HIM...
Last Night, my heart skipped more than a beat… The very construct of time was arrested, I am certain of it. I cannot recall those moments…fractions of moments…without an unyielding rush of joy.
I feel unable to express my sentiments justly with words – it is not so much an exercise in futility to endeavor to do so, just that no combination of sounds or letters feel adequate enough to enumerate my infinite gratitude.
Perhaps it is enough to say, then, that I not only believe in Magic and Miracles…but that I know them to exist.
I never needed to “see to believe”. . .so imagine how powerful it is when Life unfolds before your very eyes, animating love and breath where it had once extinguished. . .
Conformity is a road easily travelled. It is well-worn, well-lit, and littered with signs.
But then there are those other paths, with nary a light to be seen, sewn with branches and roots and rocks…
The other paths that ignite a spark in your soul,
That drum with a sound to match your heart’s…
The paths that make you feel alive.
Lest you spend a Life navigated by what others think you should do, follow the roads that speak to you. Sometimes the magic we perceive cannot be seen with everyone’s eyes – but magic it remains.